


A Jedi in Dumbledore’s Court: Episode I

by Mnementh1



Series: A Jedi in Dumbledore's Court [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 77,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27433312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mnementh1/pseuds/Mnementh1
Summary: After being delivered to the Dursley's doorstep like a jug of milk, Harry is rescued by a mysterious stranger before they even know he was there. Nearly ten years later, he is returned, but not as the boy Dumbledore expected. Rated T and will always be rated T.Originally posted on FanFiction.net.  I am the original author.
Series: A Jedi in Dumbledore's Court [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005861
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. Of course, for Star Wars, that means I could have brothers kissing their sisters, but that's a different story._

* * *

**Prologue**

The two Delta-7 Aethersprite-class starfighters rotated as one as they prepared to enter the atmosphere of the blue-green planet. As the first tendrils of air began to heat the skin of the fighters, the pilots engaged a broad-spectrum electromagnetic cloak. Cloaking would not render them invisible but would help prevent them from being detected by any of the fragmented military forces of this planet. None of these posed serious threats to them. It was still better to not be detected at all than it was to have to defend themselves.

As they sped through the upper atmosphere, they dropped their speed. Still moving far faster than any native aircraft, they made their way across a vast ocean. The lower atmosphere was thick and bled off even more speed as they descended.

The fighters, their altitude now below ten thousand feet, manoeuvred to follow a wide channel between two large islands. Dropping to subsonic velocity, they passed nearly unnoticed over shipping traffic. A few deckhands on the ships below heard them pass, but most took no notice.

They passed over a few small islands just as the sun was beginning to set. The pilots could see their target landmass in the distance ahead of them. With deep lakes and rolling hills, the isle was mostly lush and green at the end of a relatively mild summer. As the sun dipped below the horizon behind the fighters, the trees shone in the last light of day. The leaves reflected hints of the oranges, yellows and reds of the approaching autumn.

As the craft made landfall, the few remaining beachgoers certainly noticed something as the unusual aircraft passed overhead only a few hundred feet above the coast. The engines produced a far different sound than the fuel-guzzling jet fighters anyone on this planet had ever encountered. They were travelling far too fast for anyone to get a good look at them in the darkening sky. Most of the witnesses thought they were a new type of prototype stealth fighter. The few who suggested aliens were laughed at and quickly dropped the subject.

The light quickly melted into darkness as the pair sped inland. Now flying in the dark of night, the pilots switched on enhanced night vision. The cockpit showed the landscape around them as if the sun had come back up, though tinted slightly green. They observed rail tracks that followed the valleys through wild terrain towards the lights of a small village.

One fighter was slightly ahead of the other as they banked and turned in unison, following the contours of the land below them. They followed the rail tracks until they were able to catch sight of a large, magnificent castle in the distance. The fortress was awash with the light of many torches. It shined like a jewel in the night.

The castle, bordered by a thick and forbidding forest to the east, was perched atop a cliff. Several hundred feet below lay a large, dark lake. The castle was in remarkably good shape for its age. A path took a winding route through the northern edge of the forest, connecting the castle grounds to the nearby village.

The fighters banked towards the castle. They made their approach over the forest at treetop level. Many animals were startled by their passing. They sped past the last of the trees to fly over extensive, well-kept grounds. The moon, mostly unobstructed by clouds, illuminated the speeding craft from above with a silvery light.

As the starships passed over an aqueduct, they retracted their wingtip stabilizers and came to a stop above a large courtyard. The fighters hovered for a moment, then lowered themselves into the enclosure.

Deploying their landing gear, they gently touched down next to each other off to one side of a paved walkway. The engines wound down from a high-pitched whine to a low hum. Finally, they fell silent.

Astromech droids integrated into the wing of each fighter began post-flight maintenance as the cockpit hatches slid open. The pilots exited the cockpits and began to walk towards the main entrance of the castle.

The taller of the two wore a light tan tunic with a dark brown cloak. His younger companion was wearing dark grey clothes of the same cut. Both of them wore their hoods up, concealing their faces.

Once they entered the castle, the two found themselves in an entrance foyer. Opposite the massive doors was a grand staircase leading up to the upper floors. It was bordered by two smaller staircases descending below the ground level.

No one was there to greet them, save for some empty suits of armour to either side of the great oak doors. Connected to the foyer was a large dining hall. A feast was about to take place. They opened the doors to the dining hall and entered. The ceiling appeared to be transparent, projecting a glorious view of the night sky overhead. Four long tables divided the Great Hall. Each seated nearly two hundred and fifty children of varying ages. Many of them were craning their necks to observe a ceremony occurring towards the far end of the Hall. A three-legged stool sat before the head table. Upon this sat a young child wearing a pointed hat so over-sized that it slipped over his eyes and ears to obscure his face.

The two newcomers approached the head table. The children sitting at the tables gawked at them, following their every move. The silence the students had maintained for the sorting ceremony was broken. The children hissed questions at each other, trying to guess the identity of the mystery guests. A stern-looking woman wearing black robes and a pointed hat was standing next to the child on the stool. She looked with some concern at the approaching pair.

"Hufflepuff!" the hat shouted out, using a rip near the brim as a mouth. The woman next to the stool moved as if on autopilot. Still staring at the strangers, she took the hat off the child's head. Oblivious to the newcomers, he started walking to one of the tables near the middle of the Hall. Halfway there, he noticed the cloaked figures still making their way up the aisle towards him. He froze, not knowing where to go. Several older students at the Hufflepuff table pulled him away. They seated him on the far end of the table from the unknown visitors.

The line of children still waiting to be sorted was able to get a very close look at the cloaked strangers. Even the hat seemed interested in the pair. It squirmed in the woman's hand as it twisted around to get a good look.

At the head table, sitting in a throne-like chair was a white-haired, long-bearded old man. He wore midnight blue robes and gold framed half-moon glasses. He rose as the two newcomers came to a halt before the head table. Another man with a careworn face also stood, looking eagerly at the approaching strangers.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the strangely dressed old man, staring at them with twinkling eyes. "I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of this school. To whom do we owe the honour?"

The taller of the two reached up and lifted the hood of his cloak, revealing a weathered face with a greying beard. He had the look of a man who had seen many battles.

"I am Master Toma Kendet," the stranger said, "and I am here to deliver a student."

Headmaster Dumbledore's eyes flicked over to the smaller of the two strangers.

"And does this student have a name?" the Headmaster asked. His tone was full of curiosity.

The grey-clad figure brought his hood down to reveal his face. He stood proudly next to Kendet. His bright, green eyes studied each of the adults at the head table in turn. A single braid of hair hung down his right shoulder.

"My Padawan learner," presented Toma Kendet, "Harry Potter."


	2. Chapter 2

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. Of course, for Harry Potter, that means I could let the leader of the good guys dump an infant unprotected on a doorstep in the middle of the night, but we all know how that worked out._

* * *

_9-1/2 Years Previously_

Jedi Knight Toma Kendet was on a special assignment for the Jedi Council. The backwater planet he was assigned to investigate was located far out beyond the outer rim. He was so far beyond the civilized areas of the galaxy that the inhabitants of neither this system nor any in its vicinity had even heard of the Republic.

Toma had come here in search of a Sith Lord. Before falling to the Dark Side, Kerk Yavok was a talented and intelligent Jedi. Like nearly all members of the Order, he had been taken from his family as a toddler and sent to Coruscant to be trained in the Jedi temple. He excelled at lightsaber combat and Force Healing. He faced the Jedi Trials at the age of 20 and advanced to the rank of Jedi Knight.

After 22 years of service, Kerk was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. On an assignment to assist a group of archaeologists who had uncovered an ancient Jedi artefact on a distant world, Kerk became possessed by a soul fragment of a Sith Lord. The Sith Lord had attempted immortality by transferring a portion of his own soul into a Holocron. It lay dormant for over two thousand years until Kerk accidentally activated it. Consumed by the Dark Side, he emerged from the ruins as the reborn Darth Agen.

Agen's goal was to bring back the reign of the Sith. Kerk's Padawan, Morric Sanin, became the possessed Jedi's first victim when he refused to join the Dark Lord. The horrified archaeologists who witnessed the brutal murder were quickly slaughtered. Darth Agen spent the next ten years avoiding the Jedi while engaging in a guerilla war against his former family using an inner circle of Jedi he lured from their true path. Together, they led an army of non-Force using cannon fodder. After a series of vicious battles that cost the Jedi dozens of knights, and Agen's army their existence, the war was over. The only one remaining was the cowardly Darth Agen, who fled the Republic to try to rebuild his army.

The Council believed Agen was hiding somewhere within the Republic. A tip was received from a former follower of Darth Agen. It suggested that the defeated Sith Lord had instead departed beyond the Outer Rim to a distant system outside the knowledge of the Jedi. The Council, not believing the report, still thought it prudent to follow up on it. Toma, who had lost his own Padawan in one of the final battles of the war, was sent to investigate.

The mistake of only sending one Jedi nearly cost Toma his life when the tip turned out to be accurate. After the initial contact and lightsaber duel, Darth Agen fled. Toma chased his former friend across the country known as Britain. The local residents were out walking the street and visiting each house they came to in turn. Typically, this would present a problem, as Toma wanted to avoid any contact with the locals. However, since many of them were dressed in odd costumes, Toma did not end up standing out. He was able to determine it was a local holiday where children and some adults would dress as monsters and popular public figures in celebration. It wasn't the strangest custom Toma had come across in his travels, and he was grateful for the cover it granted him.

He finally caught up to his quarry deep in the industrial centre of a city called Surrey. The dark lord was hiding in a drill factory called Grunnings. Kerk was beyond redemption at this point and forced Toma to kill him in a lightsaber duel. Toma was the victor, but his former friend was dead at his hand.

Evading the local authorities, who had been alerted by the lights and sounds of the duel, Toma travelled on foot and exited the business sector of the city. Eventually, he reached a residential area in a small neighbourhood.

Stopping to rest, he sat on a park bench to meditate and try to find his centre. He had killed opponents before in the service of the Jedi but never before had he killed someone who had once been his friend. It was midnight, and all was quiet. He considered just sleeping in the park and continuing the journey to his ship in the morning. He could hide better in the crowds, and it would give him time to regain his strength and energy. The duel with Darth Agen had drained him, both physically and emotionally.

His meditation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a man on the street in front of him. Toma had been sitting on a bench with his eyes closed when he felt a surge in the Force. Opening his eyes, he saw nothing at first. Suddenly the nothing turned into a man. He was wearing dark robes and a pointed hat. His white beard and hair were so long they reached below the large gold belt he wore. The man, not noticing Toma, walked up the street and pulled a device from his pocket. Pointing this device at a streetlamp, the light from the lamp suddenly flew into the handheld device.

One after another, the man extinguished the light from the street. Intrigued, Toma used the cover of the sudden darkness to silently move closer to the man. Hiding behind the shrubbery of a neighbouring house, Toma watched as the man was approached by a four-legged feline of a type he had seen frequently on this planet. Instead of ignoring the animal as Toma had expected, or even petting it, the man addressed it by the title of "Professor," and greeted the cat. Toma was shocked when the cat stood up on its two hind legs and rapidly grew into a human woman.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. Are the rumours true, Albus?" the woman asked.

"I'm afraid so, Professor. The good and the bad," Dumbledore answered. They spent a few minutes discussing the deaths of a couple named James and Lily, and the aborted attack on their small boy named Harry Potter. To Toma, it sounded like this world was plagued by their own Dark Lord of the Sith.

"And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places," McGonagall asked.

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall. She went on to detail the surveillance she had performed on the residents of the house, and Toma quite agreed that the people she described were not at all suitable guardians. He was surprised how strong his feelings were on this issue, as he reminded himself that he was not involved.

"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter." McGonagall expressed her shock that he would explain something of this magnitude with a letter. Toma quite agreed. He also thought it odd to write a letter to people you were going to meet face to face with anyway, but perhaps that was the custom on this strange world.

Surprisingly, the woman suddenly dropped her protests. Toma was confused at her abrupt change of heart.

"Yes – yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?"

"Hagrid is bringing him," said the old man. The woman appeared shocked at this news, and somewhat distrustful.

"Do you think it wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" she asked, her tone of voice making it clear what the answer was, at least to her mind.

"Ah, Professor. I would trust Hagrid with my life," answered Dumbledore.

"That doesn't actually answer my question," protested Professor McGonagall. She started to build up another head of steam in her argument against the wisdom of leaving the child here but was interrupted by the roaring of an engine.

Toma, getting somewhat used to the shocks this strange night was presenting, was none the less surprised to find a two-wheeled speeder bike descending onto the street with a giant of a man astride it. The large man was carrying a small bundle. He dismounted from the speeder bike and addressed the man and woman.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir. Professor McGonagall."

"No problems, I trust, Hagrid?" asked Dumbledore.

"No, sir. Little tyke fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol." He handed Dumbledore the blanket-wrapped bundle he was carrying. "Try not to wake him."

Dumbledore looked down into the wrapped blankets now in his arms and began to bring the bundle to the house they were standing in front of. To Toma's shock and amazement, they did not go in or signal the residents that they were there. Dumbledore laid the child gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it into the blankets, and left him there. The giant man gave out a howl and a cry at the thought of leaving the child but did nothing else to prevent it.

"Well, that's that," Dumbledore said. "We have no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations." This rocked Kendet to his core. They were not only going to just leave him here but leave him here unprotected? Without even letting the people they were leaving him with know? So they could go off to a party? Still sniffling and upset, the giant named Hagrid swung himself on to the speeder bike and roared off into the sky.

The woman named McGonagall was visibly upset.

"Surely we cannot just leave him there, Professor!" she exclaimed.

"There, there, my dear professor," he said. "I know that it may seem unusual, but it really is for the best. I have met with his aunt before, and do not believe actual contact between us is advisable. I ask that you trust my judgement."

"That assessment does not make me feel better about this," huffed Professor McGonagall. She turned herself back into a cat and slunk off into the darkness. Dumbledore took out the strange device he used when he first arrived on the street and returned the lights back to the lamps. Toma, still hiding behind the bushes, could just make out the bundle on the doorstep.

"Good luck, Harry Potter," Dumbledore said quietly. With that and a small pop, Dumbledore vanished from the street.

* * *

Toma waited to see if any of them were going to come back. Surely this was a joke, wasn't it? When no one appeared for several minutes, he crept up to the bundle on the doorstep. There, his fingers curled around the letter Dumbledore had left, was a male infant. Wrapped only in a blanket for protection, the child was shivering slightly. While it wasn't as cold as it could be this time of year, it was still far too cold for a child this young to be sleeping on a doorstep!

Young Harry had already had a tough time of it, Toma saw. A lightning-bolt shaped cut, red and swollen, stuck out on the boy's forehead. Looking at the child, Toma found himself fighting with a strange compulsion to take the boy with him. It was obvious to him that the child was in danger. From the description of the residents of this house that he heard McGonagall give Dumbledore, the boy would have a miserable life if he were left here.

A connection was forming between himself and the sleeping child. This connection was not born of practicality or feasibility, but a link created by the Force itself. Toma, assured by the Force that this was the proper thing to do, found he was in a much better state of mind than he had been only ten minutes ago. He had someone to protect. He picked the bundle of blankets off of the cold concrete porch of 4 Privet Drive, tucked the letter into his cloak, and departed.

The Jedi made his way across the town to a large rain overflow drainage ditch that his ship was hidden in. It was an old Vaya class scout ship, perfect for long missions out beyond the assistance of the Republic. Once onboard, Toma put together a makeshift crib out of the blankets Harry was wrapped in and a parts container. The Jedi Council was going to be upset, he knew. He had been sent here to investigate the remote possibility of Darth Agen's presence on this world, but he now had another job to do. This assignment was not given or sanctioned by the Council, but by the Force. He could feel that the Force was strong in Harry. The Council would accept him. They would have to.

* * *

Harry Potter was a typical 15-month old baby boy born of magical parents. He had been quite well taken care of by his loving parents and wanted for nothing. Being 15-months old, of course, he didn't want much. A list of his favourite things would include His Mama, his Dada, his toy broomstick, some milk, a biscuit, and his favourite uncle, who also just happened to be his pet dog.

He knew more words than he could speak, but he was working on that. The list of words he could speak was unsurprisingly similar to his list of favourite things. Mama, Dada, Pafood, no, more, dog and boomtick. He was sometimes more successful than other times when trying to communicate these profound words to his parents and uncles, but he was working on that too.

This morning had not gone nearly as well as any other morning he could remember. He was used to waking up, finding the smiling face of his mother, be lifted out of his crib by his father, thrown into the air a few times, (always trusting his father to catch him, and he always did,) screaming with laughter, then downstairs to breakfast.

Not having the refined palate of an adult comes in handy as a toddler, as not many adults would like Harry's usual breakfast of mushed up cereal, but Harry thought it filled him up nicely. A changed diaper and some playtime with Pafood and his happy morning would be complete.

This particular morning, however, he woke up in a strange crib. The brightly painted and well-lit nursery was replaced by a rather dingy, metal room. It was very dimly lit, had a musty smell, and he could hear slight beeps in irregular patterns that were nearly drowned out by an odd hum that was steady and ever-present.

His toy bear was gone, and his diaper was dirty. His mother wasn't there, smiling at him and asking if her big boy had wonderful dreams. He was alone. Using the universal language of children everywhere, he called out for her to come and explain precisely what in the blazes kind of establishment she thought she was running. His displeasure grew as he realized his head hurt. It hurt a lot. When his mother did not answer, he started to call out for Dada. Not used to being ignored, he began to panic! Not able to summon his mother or his father, he continued on his list of people he knew. He called out for Pafood. His cries shrieked through the scout ship, but since sound does not travel in space, Pafood could not hear him. He could, however, feel him.

* * *

Sirius Black was also not having a good morning. His best friend on this planet had been murdered the night before. He had gone to Peter's hideout to check up on him and knew something was wrong the instant he found that Peter was not there. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he knew at that moment that they had been wrong. They had made a horrible mistake. Moony was not the spy and had never been. How much of an idiot could he have been? Wormtail was the one who was always hanging about, always trying to work every angle, always trying to be liked. The other three thought he was just a harmless, under-talented boy who deserved their pity. He was a Gryffindor, after all, that alone proved he must be good.

"He made fools of us all," said Sirius to himself. He leapt onto his motorcycle and rushed over to the Potter's house in Godric's Hollow, only to find the house was in ruins. He was about to try to find a way to enter when a section of the wall nearest the road suddenly exploded out. Hagrid emerged from the hole he had just made, holding a crying baby in his enormous arms.

"Hagrid!" yelled Sirius. "Is everyone alright?" Hagrid came up to Sirius, holding an upset and crying Harry in the crook of his arm.

"No, Sirius," the giant said, his voice hoarse both from the smoke of the ruined house, and the emotion of having found his friend's dead bodies. "Only Harry. They're dead, Sirius," Hagrid sobbed. Sirius closed his eyes, filled with grief.

"Give me Harry, Hagrid," he told the bawling giant. "He's my Godson, I'll take care of him."

"I can't do that, Sirius," Hagrid replied. "Dumbledore's orders. I have to take Harry to Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore is not his Godfather, Hagrid," Sirius pleaded. "I need to take care of him!"

"And I'm tellin' ya I can't do that," the large man said, getting his emotions under control. "Dumbledore said to bring young Harry straight to 'im, and that's what I mean to do!"

Sirius, hearing the determined tone and knowing how loyal Hagrid was to Dumbledore, decided to drop it for now. He could argue it out with Dumbledore later. Harry, at least, would be safe.

"Then take my motorcycle, Hagrid," he offered. "It'll get you there faster than you could on your own."

Watching Hagrid fly off with Harry on his motorcycle hurt Sirius far more than he thought he could be hurt. James and Lily were gone, and he couldn't even take comfort in protecting Harry. He had to do something. Anything. Anything that would help. Peter. He would track down the rat. Transforming into his Animagus form, he began to sniff out Wormtail's scent. Finding it, he followed. He would make it better.

It could not have gone worse if he had tried to mess everything up.

* * *

The next morning dawned cold and rainy on Azkaban island. Sirius woke with a start. Harry was calling for him. He could hear him.

"Pafood! Pafood! Dada! Mama!"

With consciousness rushing back into his brain, the voice of his Godson, sounding so close that Sirius was afraid they'd put Harry in Azkaban as well, faded into nothingness. He sank back, his back resting against the stone wall of his cell. He was alone. He would be for a very, very long time. Well, mostly alone. There were always the dementors for company.

* * *

Dumbledore's morning was quite frustrating. Despite his plans to hide the Potter family, they had been found. Betrayed by Sirius Black, no less. Sirius had been caught red-handed. He was found in the middle of the street, screaming and laughing, surrounded by dead muggles and the very few remains of Peter Pettigrew. Albus tried not to think about it. Instead, he pondered the mystery of Harry Potter.

He was staring at a curious device on his desk. It looked like a centrifuge, with four arms supporting silver balls that rotated around a central column. It was not spinning, however. Forlornly, he gave the arms a spin to try to prod them into starting, and they freely rotated a few revolutions before slowly coming to a stop. With each turn of the arms, a small puff of smoke was emitted from the centre spire.

A similar-looking instrument stood next to it, and it was spinning away normally, puffing smoke that floated a few inches above the spinning arms before disappearing. This was remarkably interesting, and more than a little worrying. According to Dumbledore's understanding, this meant that Harry was alive and healthy, but the blood wards he had placed on his Aunt and Uncle's house had not yet activated.

That was dangerous. Voldemort was gone, it was true, but many of his followers remained. Many of them were just as evil as he was, and they now had an exceptionally large grudge to hold against the little boy. While it was true that Voldemort was gone, Dumbledore suspected that he was not gone for good.

He grumpily gave the idle instrument another spin, trying to will it to start working. It came to another ominous halt. There were only two things Albus could think of that could account for this. Either the Dursley's hadn't yet opened their front door to find little Harry, or Harry Potter was not actually at 4 Privet Drive.

With more than just a little trepidation, he considered summoning Professor McGonagall to his office. Remembering how little she liked the idea of leaving Harry there in the first place, he knew how very much she wouldn't like having to return so soon. Thinking better of it, he realized she would actually like nothing better than to return immediately. If she did, though, Harry would not be staying there for another moment.

It was a Sunday today, Dumbledore realized. As a professor, he worked everyday school was in session, as he needed to be available for his students. The children lived at the school ten months out of the year, after all. It sometimes slipped his mind that some people liked a bit of a lie-in on Sundays. Deciding they must just be late getting up, he decided to give it one more day. If the instruments didn't indicate the blood wards were established by the next morning, he would have to take another trip to Little Whinging.

_A/N Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone dialogue merged together from both the book and the movie._


	3. Chapter 3

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. Of course, for Star Wars, that means I could have a leader of the rebel alliance, who knows the ship she is on is being tracked, make a beeline for the hidden base the Empire otherwise cannot find with their planet murdering, handrail lacking, murder moon. Like, straight there. Not even a stop at a 7-11 for some frozen space burritos._

* * *

On the first day of his new responsibilities as the guardian of Harry Potter, Toma Kendet was wondering if he was truly up to the task. He had helped care for younglings before, of course, but never one so young as this. He hadn't chosen his Padawan until the lad was six years of age, and Toma was not initially prepared to have to do so many things to keep the young child healthy and happy.

When young Harry had awoken, he was understandably upset to find himself in an unknown environment. The familiar people were replaced by a strange man who could not produce his Mama and Dada on demand. Toma, however, was patient and showed the child kindness. He kept him clean and kept him fed. At first, Harry was not impressed with the food Toma offered him.. 'Hunger strike', however, had not yet been added to his vocabulary, so he ate.

After a week, Harry stopped waking up screaming. He began to expect that it was Toma who checked on him instead of his mother. He still missed his mother and father, of course, and asked for them frequently.

The cut on his forehead had healed, helped along by a bacta bandage Toma applied in the medical bay. The cut healed into a scar of the same shape, which was a bit odd. Bacta applied to a wound as fresh as the one on Harry's head usually healed without leaving scars. In the war, Toma himself had been healed of wounds far more grievous with no sign of them afterwards. Toma decided to do nothing more for it since it was at least not hurting Harry anymore. The Jedi healers could take a look when they arrived at Coruscant.

The journey from Earth to the capital planet of the Republic would take about two weeks. It would keep for that long, at least. Toma continued to bond with Harry, and Harry seemed to accept Toma as another uncle.

* * *

At Hogwarts, Dumbledore was growing frustrated. He had told himself that he would go to Little Whinging to check on Harry if the blood wards did not establish by the next day, but that was not to be. Albus had every intention of doing so, but his plans were laid to waste by the unexpected and vicious attack by Death Eaters on the Longbottom family. The Longbottoms had gone into hiding just like the Potters, but when Voldemort disappeared, they made the decision to rejoin the world.

That decision was premature, it seemed. Alice and Frank were both tortured into insanity by the Cruciatus curse and only the timely assistance of the Aurors that Frank Longbottom had managed to summon prevented Bellatrix Lestrange from doing the same to young Neville.

The cleanup and investigation of that attack kept him out of his office all day, and by the time he returned, it was already far too late to call on the Dursleys. At least, it was far too late if he wanted to actually talk to them. The ward indicator was as unmoving as if it hadn't been set up at all. The health indicator was still spinning madly away. If anything, it was spinning even faster now, showing that wherever Harry was, he was being cared for.

It was only this that had convinced Albus that he could wait until another night had passed before beginning the search. If the health indicator showed anything but healthy and alive, he would have gone at that moment. Dumbledore sighed. There was nothing else for it, though. He would have to go back in the morning. With that, he turned in for the night.

* * *

Mr and Mrs Dursley of 4 Privet Drive were not used to things going anyway but precisely as they dictated them. Up until a few days ago, they would have said their lives were just about perfect.

Vernon made a very respectable living as the director of Grunnings, a firm which made drills. He loved his job, as it allowed him to yell at people most of the day. Yelling at people was his favourite pastime, after all. He, of course, never yelled at home. His wife, Petunia, never did anything to make him angry. And who could possibly yell at his precious son, Dudley?

Petunia, who would be scandalized if any of the neighbours deigned to try to peer into her own life, spent her days peering into all of theirs. She was thin, blond, and had a very long neck, which was convenient as she peered over fences to spy on everyone around her. Any time not devoted to gossip was spent doting on their perfect son, Dudley.

Vernon's day yesterday had not gone well at all, though. Vernon arrived at his office on the ninth floor precisely on time, only to receive a call from the production floor. A dead body had been found in the factory. The production crew had arrived to start their shift and found an oddly dressed corpse.

If Vernon could have gotten away with it, he would have ordered the body thrown into the dumpster and had the work crew get on with their shift. Even he knew he couldn't get away with that, though, and had called the police.

The lead investigator thought it was a cult-related murder, as the victim had been dressed in outlandish robes, wearing a rather sinister-looking helmet. Vernon expressed his opinion that it was a drunk looking for a place to sleep off the effects of a Halloween party.

The policeman who came up with the cult murder theory did not think much of Mr Dursley's theory. Mr Dursley thought that was because it sounded much more likely than a cult murder. The lead investigator did not include it in his report and wrote that the suspected motive was drug-related gang violence.

Police reports were reviewed from citizens who had reported seeing and hearing a commotion in the area on Halloween night. Police had scoured the area but had not found anything. Of course, they hadn't had the authority to search inside the buildings.

The victim had been slashed with something hot that had gone straight through him, the police had found. Whatever it was, it cauterized the wound as it went, so at least there wasn't a lot of blood to clean up.

* * *

The investigation kept the plant shut down for a full day, and Vernon was up early this Tuesday morning with the intentions of driving his workforce unmercifully to make up for lost time. He also planned on firing the night watchman for allowing the murdered as well as the murderer on the premises without noticing, let alone allowing the murder to take place.

As he was finishing his breakfast, however, the doorbell rang. Petunia got up to answer it, and Vernon became concerned when she gave a squeak of horror and recognition. A wizard and witch were standing on her doorstep!

Both had made an attempt to dress as ordinary people did. In fact, as Petunia recalled from her childhood the outlandish outfits many of that sort put on when out with normal people, the pair on her doorstep had actually done a remarkable job. She recognized the old man, however, as the headmaster of the freak school that had taken her sister away.

"Good morning, Mrs Dursley," said Dumbledore. "I wonder if we could come in and talk with you and your husband about a matter of great urgency?" Petunia peered out the open door, making sure none of the neighbours was watching.

"Get in," Petunia hissed. "Quickly!"

With a prim look on her face, like Petunia would have if she were to step into one of the hovels downtown, the stern-looking woman entered the Dursley house, followed by Dumbledore. They were led by Petunia to a couch upon which they sat, while Petunia took a chair opposite a coffee table with the latest periodicals neatly fanned out. _The freaks wouldn't have anything to say about her house_ , Petunia thought to herself as she waited for them to speak.

She had told Vernon of her sister being a freak when he was courting her, and she felt it an excellent sign of his character that he was able to forgive her having such abnormalities in her family.

"I am Albus Dumbledore," began the headmaster as Vernon came up behind his wife and squinted suspiciously at the odd pair in his living room.

"I know who you are!" interrupted Petunia. "My sister was never the same after attending your excuse for a school!"

McGonagall looked slightly scandalized at this but felt that she must offer sympathies to the obviously devastated woman.

"We are most sorry at your loss, Mrs Dursley," offered McGonagall. "Your sister was a valued member of our society, and one of my favourite students. She will truly be missed."

Petunia's eyes opened wide in shock at this.

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked in a shrill, panicked voice. "What has happened to Lily?"

Dumbledore and McGonagall traded glances with each other.

"I am deeply sorry to have to tell you this," said Dumbledore, "but she was killed along with her husband on Halloween night. They had gone into hiding as they were threatened by the most thoroughly evil man our society has produced in many, many years. Very unfortunately, he was able to find them."

Petunia put her hands to her face and sobbed.

"I knew it!" she cried. "I knew that your kind would be her end! I tried to warn her, but she wouldn't listen!"

It was some time before Vernon was able to calm her down, and it was clear to Dumbledore and McGonagall that this was the first she was hearing of the death of her sister.

"Did you not find the letter with your nephew?" Dumbledore asked Vernon. "I put it in his blankets myself when I left him here." Vernon sharply stared at the odd man.

"What do you mean, left him here?" he asked, his hackles rising. "We've never even seen the boy! I've certainly never seen you before."

Albus looked down, knowing what he had to say would not be well received by anyone in this house.

"It was quite late on Halloween night, nearly midnight," he began to explain. "I knew the safest place for young Harry was here, as there are still those out there that would harm him. I did not, however, wish to disturb you. Knowing how Petunia felt about magic, I thought the best chance of you accepting him would be if we did not directly communicate. I left Harry on your doorstep with the intention of you finding him in the morning and taking him in. The letter I left explained all of this, and asked for you to care for him as if he were your own."

Petunia stopped her weeping, shocked into silence. She glanced at her husband, whose eyes had first gone wide with alarm, then squinted into slits as he looked at his targets.

"Let me see if I understand you correctly," Vernon said, his voice unnaturally calm and every word meticulously pronounced.

His employees could have taught the magical professors a lesson in damage control had they been there. Vernon was not naturally a relaxed man. When he suddenly grew calm, it was merely the calm before the storm as he gathered his energies for the onslaught. It was best in those circumstances to batten down the hatches and prepare for the worst.

"You thought it was best," said Vernon Dursley, "to leave a child on my doorstep, unattended. A mere baby. On my doorstep. At midnight. In November."

Albus Dumbledore could only nod his head in confirmation.

* * *

Mr and Mrs Pebbles of 6 Privet Drive were happy in their retirement. They minded their own business and tried very hard to ignore Petunia Dursley next door who tried to mind it with them. Aside from that, they had very few worries. They lived on a nice, quiet street and enjoyed a calm, stress-free retirement.

Well, mostly quiet, that is. Ever since Dudley Dursley was born, quiet wasn't really the norm. The child had quite the pair of lungs on him. They didn't let it bother them, though, as they could make allowances for babies. Sitting in their parlour after breakfast, Mr Pebbles was reading the newspaper while Mrs Pebbles worked on her cross-stitching. Their quiet morning was suddenly interrupted as the noise of a massive row blasted through the neighbourhood!

"The Dursleys must be having a fight," Mr Pebbles said, looking up from his paper in alarm. "That's unusual, they normally get along so well."

"I'm not sure they're yelling at each other," replied Mrs Pebbles. "My goodness, listen to that shouting! You can almost make out the words from here!" They listened for a few moments, trying to determine the nature of the row.

"Something about a child," said Mr Pebbles straining to hear. "And pregnant? That doesn't make sense. They love Dudley so much I think they'd be delighted to have another."

"No, I think he said endangerment, not pregnant," corrected Mrs Pebbles. Mr Pebbles was several years older than his wife, and his hearing was not the best. "And now the word 'criminal,' and something about being the most irresponsible something, it's hard to make out. Wait, they've stopped." The noise had vanished as abruptly as it had begun.

"Well, perhaps that'll be the end of it," said Mr Pebbles. He returned to his newspaper to finish reading the oddest report about a supposed flying saucer being reported above Surrey the other night. "The things young people came up with," he thought to himself. "Flying saucers, indeed."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore winced as he rubbed his ears. The sheer volume of the yelling was almost unbelievable. Minerva McGonagall was in shock. No one had ever screamed at her like that before. They were standing on the doorstep, having been thrown out of the house by an irate Vernon Dursley. Neither had even been able to go for their wands before the angry man ejected them from his home, slammed the door, and locked it.

"That could have gone better," Dumbledore said.

"Oh, Albus," McGonagall cried. "Whatever could have happened to him?"

"I do not know, Minerva," Dumbledore answered. "I can only say that wherever Harry Potter is, he is at least healthy. That alone proves he is not with the Death Eaters."

McGonagall brought out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

"We had best be off," said Dumbledore, taking Minerva by the hand. "That will have drawn attention."

With a pop, the two apparated to just outside the gates of Hogwarts. Trying to forget the verbal lashing they had just endured, Albus led the Transfiguration professor back to the castle and up to his office. Dumbledore looked forlornly at the instruments on his desk and knew that the ward monitor would never spin.

"We should never have left him there, Albus," McGonagall said, her cheeks still red from the vocal hammering they suffered at the hands of Vernon Dursley.

"No, that was not one of my better ideas," agreed Dumbledore. "I should have listened to you. I am sorry, more so than I can say. I can only hope that young Harry does not suffer for my mistake."

"What are we going to do?" Minerva asked.

"I will start," said Dumbledore, "by calling in the Order of the Phoenix. I believe young Remus Lupin will be a great asset in the search for Harry."

* * *

Remus Lupin did not enjoy being a werewolf. Classified as a dark creature, it was tough to find and keep good jobs. In fact, most of the positions he held the longest were actually in the muggle world. He had worked as a shop clerk for a muggle pharmacy for several months until the events of Halloween night.

He had been forced to take off the entire first half of the week for the full moon only a few weeks before, and the sudden requirement of additional time off was too much for his employer. He was let go. Not that Remus hesitated, of course. With James and Lilly gone, Sirius in Azkaban for betraying them, and Peter blown to bits by Sirius, he felt he was all that young Harry had left. He would gladly give up any job to help search.

It wouldn't be the full moon again till November 11th, but even in fully human form, his senses were enhanced by being a werewolf. In fact, he was exceptionally talented at defence, as well as investigation. Ensuring he was alone, he took out his wand and performed a rather complicated spell typically only used by Aurors investigating crimes. His senses magically enhanced even further, he was now able to get a sense of what had happened magically only a few nights before.

Following traces of magic, he was able to see the signature of Albus Dumbledore appearing up the street in a flare of apparition. The traces were like glowing clouds of light overlaid onto his normal vision. He followed each streak of light as Dumbledore's Put-Outer extinguished the streetlamps. He was able to track the nimble footsteps of Minerva McGonagall as her cat form padded its way to join him. He saw the glow of magic as she transformed into a human.

And he saw something else. Something that was there before Dumbledore, originating from the bench in the park behind Privet Drive. Something that followed him up the street and hid in the bushes as the traces of the two known magical professors huddled together in what must have been a conversation.

Magesight was not like a VCR recording. He couldn't hear conversations that had taken place, nor could he see things or people as they appeared in real life. He could detect spells, and if he knew the person well, he could identify them by their magical signature. It was a very delicate ability. The more magic that was expended in an area, the more difficult it was to see individual events. For example, he knew he could never use it to determine what had happened when Sirius killed Peter. The magic of a duel was far too much for Magesight; it would be like trying to stare at the sun. It was also highly subjective to the user. Two different wizards using Magesight could see entirely different things. That's why, while it was advantageous to find clues, by itself it was not admissible as evidence before the Wizengamot.

Whatever it was that had hidden behind the bushes stayed there as Remus recognized Sirius's motorcycle streaking down from the sky carrying Hagrid and Harry. The signature of the unknown subject was quite unlike anything Remus had ever experienced before. Subtler than a witch or wizard, it was most certainly something magical. A muggle would not have made an impression at all, and a squib would be barely detectable. He watched as the Dumbledore trace took the Harry trace from the Hagrid trace.

Even though Dumbledore had told him in advance everything he had seen and done that night, he was nonetheless dismayed to see the Dumbledore trace leave the Harry trace on the doorstep to rejoin the other two adult traces. The trace in the bushes remained still and hidden. After a minute, the known traces except for Harry and the hidden, unknown subject went their separate ways. Remus sharpened his focus, as he knew what happened next would be critical.

The unknown subject in the bushes waited a few minutes, then approached the Harry trace on the doorstep. Remus wished Magesight would allow an impression of what someone looked like. It was very frustrating to see this strange thing staring down at the child Remus thought of as his nephew and not being able to do anything to stop it. He would have words with Albus over this. How could he just leave him unprotected?

After a few minutes where the unknown subject just stood there, it suddenly picked the Harry trace up and departed. Remus followed it out of town. It did not stop or deviate until it arrived at a large drainage ditch, where the oddest thing occurred. Both the unknown subject and the Harry trace departed. They did not apparate, nor did he find the trace of a portkey. Instead, they seemed to enter a structure that no longer existed. They hung about for around 20 minutes, and then rose into the air. Suddenly, like a meteor in reverse, the traces shot up into the sky and left, faster than Remus could track.

They were gone. Remus could find no other traces of either of them nor of anyone else. Remus cancelled the Magesight and looked around the drainage ditch with normal sight. He saw some odd depressions in the grass like something heavy had been placed on them recently. Some scorch marks indicated something hot had burned the grass around the depression, and Lupin remembered reading a newspaper story about a UFO being spotted in this area that night. "What happened here?" he thought to himself.

Putting the Magesight on himself again, he backtracked to Privet Drive. Going back further, he watched as the unknown subject arrived at the park, and followed as it moved from where it originated. It took him to the factory of Grunnings Drills, which was aglow with dispensed magic. The news reports that informed him of the UFO sighting also mentioned a murder at Grunnings. This was very disturbing.

* * *

Officer Richard Roberts was standing with his fellow patrolman Officer Jeremy Hall on the factory floor of Grunnings Drill Factory. They were discussing the case.

The vic had been found lying on his back on the floor in the best Halloween costume Roberts had ever seen. It was simple, but from what he could tell, the quality was top notch. The medical examiner had taken the body to the morgue and was examining it, trying to determine the exact time and cause of death.

"So, Jerry," he asked his partner, "what do you think? Robbery gone wrong, gang violence, or drugs?"

"Hard to say," Hall answered. "Off the top of my head, I'm guessing robbery. No wallet on the vic, no money. No way someone is decked out for a party like that and has no money at all."

"Might have been going to a private party," Roberts speculated.

"Maybe," Hall responded, "but I've never heard of anyone going anywhere for a party with nothing on them at all. Just seems weird, and in my book, weird is where the answer lies."

"You're probably right," Roberts agreed.

The lead investigator, a steady man named Anthony Thatcher, received a phone call on a Grunnings phone that was on a small desk in the corner of the factory floor. It was an extremely heated conversation, where he was arguing with someone about jurisdiction. He hung up and approached the patrolmen.

"Ok, boys," the Investigator Thatcher said, "we need to exit the building now, seal it, and guard it. This investigation is being turned over to the Royal Air Force."

"The RAF?" asked Roberts. "Really?"

"The vic a serviceman?" asked Hall.

"They told me that's now been classified need to know," said Investigator Thatcher. "Apparently, the M.E. found something interesting, which got this whole investigation turned over to the military. We're handing all evidence over the RAF upon their arrival, per orders."

"What on Earth do you mean, closed?" yelled Vernon Dursley, purple with rage.

"By order of Her Majesty's Royal Air Force," explained Anthony Thatcher, "this factory must remain closed for now. Please direct your employees to exit, taking nothing with them."

"Look," said Vernon, "I have no idea why the Air Force has any interest at all in my drill factory, but we all have jobs to do. We all have families to feed. We cannot do either if this factory is closed!"

"I understand, Mr Dursley," Investigator Thatcher said. "Please understand that I have no choice here. I am as bound by this as you are."

"Christmas is nearly here," Dursley argued, "and you want me to keep my employees away from their jobs? Our Christmas bonuses rely on this month's production!"

"I'm sorry, Mr Dursley," placated Thatcher, " you'll have to direct all complaints or comments to the central office. Please cooperate, so we can get this settled as soon as possible and get you back to work."

After hustling the large and surly manager and his employees out of the building, the police secured all of the exits.

"Say," said Hall, "who left this door open?" He was examining a door that led to the outside directly from the factory floor. It appeared to be used for refuse removal and was ajar.

"You got me," answered Roberts. "Latch it, and we'll leave by the front exit."

"Done," said Hall.

* * *

On the other side of the now latched door were some dumpsters and a gravel walkway. The walkway led to a road that led from the public roads to the warehouses. It was intended for use by shipping trucks to deliver parts and pick up finished drills. Two footprints in the loose gravel suddenly were joined by more impressions as something invisible walked away from Grunnings. Once clear of the factory grounds, Remus Lupin removed the invisibility cloak he had been wearing as he eavesdropped on the officer's speculations. He was quite disturbed by what he had heard.

Whatever had killed the man in Grunnings then made a beeline straight for where Harry Potter was going to be placed, waited without being detected by the most powerful wizard of his time, and then took Harry immediately after he was left there. The magic of the duel that had obviously taken place here obliterated any traces of the arrival of either party. The trail had gone cold. He needed to report these findings to the Order. It was time to return to Hogwarts.


	4. Chapter 4

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. Of course, for Harry Potter, that means I could have Fred and George Weasley have possession of a map that tells them the name and location of every single person in the castle (Animagus or otherwise,) and not ever notice that first one, then another brother was sleeping with a dead man every night._

* * *

"Come now, Remus," said Elphias Doge. "You cannot possibly believe that aliens have abducted Harry Potter!" The middle-aged wizard was with a good portion of the Order of the Phoenix in Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts.

"I never said I believed that," defended Lupin. "I simply said that the muggle news reported an unidentified object flying in the area Harry Potter was last known to be, and at the time that he went missing. I don't believe he was taken off into space. I think that the muggles saw whatever it was that happened and came up with whatever interpretation that they could."

"What do you think did happen to Harry, Mr Lupin?" asked Minerva, her voice steady, but still tinged with worry.

"I honestly don't know. Whatever, or whoever it was, it was fast, and left the area immediately after taking Harry," replied Lupin.

"I'm concerned about this dead body the police found," growled Alastor Moody. "Was there any identification on it, anything that could help us track down where the abductor was likely to go next?"

"Not that I was able to tell," answered the werewolf. "I couldn't question the muggle police too directly without having to obliviate them, and there was too heavy a police presence to risk that. Mostly, I stayed under an invisibility cloak and listened. The body was dressed in robes and a black metal helmet. The police think it was likely a Halloween costume. They found no identification or weapons on him, and nothing indicating where he came from. The police got no further in their investigation before suddenly turning it over to the Royal Air Force."

"Why would they do that?" asked Mad-Eye Moody.

"I'm not sure," answered Lupin. "I think it had something to do with what the medical examiner found as he looked at the body."

"How was he killed?" asked Moody.

"He was killed by something that burned through him, cauterizing the wound as it went," Lupin explained. "Whatever it was, it pierced his heart, killing him nearly instantly."

"He was in a drill factory," said Moody. "Is it at all possible it was a drill that killed him?"

"I find it highly unlikely," answered Lupin. "The factory manufactured drills for construction and household use, nothing that would have caused the type of wound that killed him."

"I feel we must widen the search area," stated Dumbledore, taking control of the meeting once again. "Check the muggle news in different areas of the country, and follow up on any 'flying saucer' stories that the muggles report." With that, the Order members filed out of Dumbledore's office. Albus sat at his desk as they left, staring out a window. "Where are you, Harry?" he quietly asked the empty sky outside.

* * *

At that very moment, Harry was staring intently at a very odd-looking toy. It made soft, cooing noises and had lots of exciting lights and round edges. To him, it was a toy, but it was, in fact, a Chroon-Tan B droid, modified for children his age. He was placed in the Jedi nursery for safekeeping while Toma informed the Jedi Council of his arrival. Not that Harry knew this, of course. To him, his new uncle was off somewhere, but at least left him with this pretty toy. While Harry was examining the pretty toy, it was also studying the human child. It was particularly interested in the scar that even bacta could not fully heal. It detected some odd energy readings emanating from the area and notated them for further study.

* * *

Jedi Knight Toma Kendet was standing before the Jedi Council with Darth Agen's lightsaber held out in presentation. Gripped by the Force, it gently floated the distance between himself and the diminutive Jedi Grandmaster Yoda, who sat on a floating pod chair, a grim look on his wizened face.

"To the Hall of Evidence, we will send this," Yoda stated. "Done well, you have, Jedi Knight. Confer on you the level of Jedi Master, the Council does."

Toma felt somewhat ashamed at the thought of gaining rank through the killing of his friend, and then slightly guilty with the knowledge that every being in this room could feel his emotions as well. He quickly got hold of his feelings, not letting them overwhelm him.

"Thank you, Master Yoda," he said, graciously accepting the position. "With your permission, I have another matter to bring to the attention of the Council."

"Another matter, you say?" inquired Yoda. "The young child you arrived with, I believe you wish to speak of?"

"Yes, Master," acknowledged Toma. "A youngling from the planet Earth. His name is Harry Potter." Several of the Masters exchanged glances at the odd pronunciation of the name. "His parents were killed on the same night I fought Kerk... Darth Agen. I encountered him as he was being abandoned on a doorstep to be looked after by relatives who would not understand or care for him."

"How do you know this?" asked Master Kilo-Ami-Maj.

"I overheard the people who were leaving him as they discussed it. I believe they knew that he would not be cared for, and knew the characters of the people at the residence where they left him. They didn't even let the presumptive guardians know they were leaving him. They dropped him on the doorstep, left a note, and departed." This revelation shocked the Council. The Jedi treasured younglings. Even non-force sensitive younglings would never have been treated in such a manner. "I translated the letter, and the person who left it with young Harry, a Professor Albus Dumbledore, used it to inform one of the residents, a Mrs Petunia Dursley, of the death of her sister. Her sister was Lilly Potter, Harry's mother. It went on to ask them to treat Harry as one of her own children, even knowing that would never occur."

"Something more, I feel, drives you on this path," inferred Yoda, his eyes closing as he conferred with the Force. "A connection, I sense between the child and yourself."

"Yes, Master," Toma answered. "I did not form it consciously. It was formed by the Force."

"By the Force, you say? Most interesting. Before us you must bring him. Examine him, we will. May the Force be with you."

With a bow, the newly appointed Jedi Master left to collect Harry from the medical droids that were examining him.

* * *

Young Harry Potter was quite confused by the creature in front of him. He knew about many animals but had never seen a wrinkled, green, giggling monkey before. It had the most enormous ears he'd ever seen. And it could talk! Yoda, amused by the child's fascination with his ears, waggled them a bit for the youngling. Rewarded with a high-pitched giggle, the Jedi Master continued his evaluation.

Harry was young to be taken in by the Jedi. At only a year and a half, it would be some time before training of any substance could be imparted. The boy was strong in the Force, however. Yoda could feel the Force flowing around and through the boy. He also found something entirely unheard of. The boy had a core of Force energy within him. He was like a Force battery, able to store Force energy. This was very unusual. With that, Harry's future with the Jedi was certain. The boy would have to be watched, and there was no better position to observe and evaluate a child than as a teacher in the Jedi Temple.

* * *

Harry was placed into a class of other Jedi Initiates, most of them slightly older than him. He did very well in the initial tests, but the evaluators noticed some very odd things about the young child. Most initiates demonstrated unintentional manipulations of the Force when stressed, angry, or upset, but Harry's were particularly dramatic. As Harry aged, his outbursts, while emotionally at the same general level as his cohort-mates, were either notably powerful or took on some odd aspect not usually associated with the Force.

For example, when Harry was three, he was quite upset when a young Twi'lek initiate scored higher than him on a test, and he somehow turned her head tails blue. She was quite distressed, and so was Harry. He didn't have any idea how he had done such a thing and didn't know how to turn it back. Fortunately for Harry, the effect only lasted a few hours before the irate girl's head tails faded back to their normal colour. She avoided Harry for some time after that. Toma began to teach Harry meditation techniques shortly after the incident to help him control his emotions. He told Harry about the cat that turned into a woman and reassured the young Initiate that the Force was manipulated to a high degree by the people of his home planet.

* * *

As time passed on Earth, the search for Harry Potter had waned. The Order of the Phoenix was still looking for him, of course, but it was not as energetic a search as had initially taken place. The health monitor continued to report on Harry's status to Dumbledore, but it did not give any clue to his whereabouts. He had long since stopped gazing wistfully at the ward monitor. The one thing he could say with any certainty was that Harry was almost certainly not in Britain anymore. He had dispatched Remus quite a few times to America, feeling like it was the most likely land for Harry's abductor to have taken him. The direction the trace had left in would also indicate America was the possible destination.

The land was vast, and the magical communities were close-knit and secretive. Each time, though, Remus had returned with no clues, no news, and little hope of ever finding any. Dumbledore noticed the werewolf was beginning to become a bit depressed at his continual failure to determine the whereabouts of his friend's son. With no real chances of Remus finding Harry, the headmaster stopped assigning him to the task. Dumbledore knew that Harry's Letter would be dispatched near his eleventh birthday, and hopefully, he could determine his location at that point.

His former headmaster may have stopped tasking Remus with finding Harry anymore, but the determined man assigned himself the goal. When the group of four friends still called themselves the Marauders had joined the Order of the Phoenix, they thought it would be fun to maintain their secret group inside the private organization. One of the things Sirius and James had done was was stash a pile of galleons in the Shrieking Shack for emergencies. Now, James and Peter were dead, and Sirius was in Azkaban for the crime. That pile of Galleons would now be used to try to find young Harry.

Having found no leads at all in the United States, Remus spent several years searching South America. Making no headway, he then headed back across the Atlantic to try India, then China. He learned quite a lot of other cultures, and being interested in Defense Against the Dark Arts, built up a surprisingly diverse skill set of defensive spells and charms, but made no progress on the search for Harry Potter.

* * *

When Harry was six years old, Toma officially named him as his Padawan Learner. He had done well in his class of younglings and was ready to begin one on one training. As a gift for his promotion, Toma gave Harry his first training lightsaber. Similar to the one he had used for practice with his cohort, this one was also set for training mode. It would cause welts and slight burns. It was not capable of cutting unless it was modified by Toma. It would be a few years yet before Harry was ready for that, though. Harry now lived with Toma in private Padawan quarters, where he studied not only the Force, but also astronomy, mathematics, languages, and mechanics. The curriculum was varied and accelerated, from a human point of view.

* * *

At the age of eight, Harry left Coruscant with Toma on their first mission. It was a border dispute on a minor world, and while Harry played no part in the negotiations, he observed everything. Harry was questioned on the proceedings by Toma afterword. Harry was impressed that Toma had been able to find common ground between two wildly disparate leaders. Harry began taking a much more active role in their partnership. By the age of ten, his lightsaber skills were excellent for his age, and Harry routinely duelled droid opponents with his lightsaber set on 'full.' One of his crowning achievements was in a similar border dispute to their first mission, where Harry provided the insight for the leaders to set aside their quarrel and sign a peace treaty. His training continued.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore did not usually examine the first-year letters too much. In his standard start of the school year preparations, he made a point to know which first years were Muggle-born to ensure they and their parents were properly introduced to the magical world. This year, however, he asked McGonagall to bring him the first-year letters before they were sealed. There was one, in particular, he was hoping very much was there. Leafing through them, he quickly found the letter he was looking for. With a great deal of confusion, he read the address:

_Mr H. Potter_

_Padawan Quarters_

_Training Pod 428_

_Jedi Temple_

_Coruscant_

Albus had never heard of a place called Coruscant, nor anything called a Jedi Temple but was pleased to finally have some sort of location for Harry, even if he had no idea where it actually was. He quickly wrote a letter to Harry. Albus had no idea if the boy was even aware he was a wizard, let alone know of the existence of Hogwarts. Without knowing where he was, it wouldn't be possible to send a teacher to explain things as could have been done with a Muggle-born. Hopefully, the letter would be sufficient. Throwing a pinch of powder into his fire, he called for Remus Lupin. The werewolf's head appeared in the flames.

"Remus, his letter is here," he explained.

"Finally!" cried Lupin. "Where does it say he is? I'll head there immediately!" Knowing that the letters would be dispatched soon, he had several bags packed and was ready to travel anywhere in the world to reach Harry."

"I'm not at all certain," said Dumbledore. He read the address to the confused werewolf, and the two tried to puzzle out where it could possibly be.

"Possibly a Buddhist temple?" theorized Lupin. "I'll check the library, see what I can find on this 'Coruscant.'"

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "If I can think of any insights, I'll let you know."

"Likewise," replied Remus. Dumbledore closed the floo connection. He had a house-elf take the letters back to McGonagall with his authorization for their release.

"Jedi," he mused, his hands resting on his desk. His eyes glanced again at the health monitor he kept on a side table in his office. "Some form of religion, perhaps? I do hope he chooses to attend Hogwarts."

* * *

Harry Potter wasn't quite aware of it, but he had just turned 11. The Jedi did not celebrate birthdays, and Harry didn't even know what day it was on. That information had not been included in the letter that was left with him on the day Toma rescued him. He still occasionally took the letter out and read it. Yoda had insisted that Harry continue to learn English, even though it required someone to return to Earth to obtain language materials. It was a similar enough language to basic to allow Toma's translator to handle it when he was on Earth for his mission, but something about this boy spoke to Yoda in the Force. He was sure that at some point, Harry would have to return to Earth.

When Harry got bored with some of his less force and lightsaber related studies, he sometimes liked to try to puzzle out the mystery of his origins. Toma did not actively discourage this, but he didn't encourage it either. For those who joined the order, family connections were left behind, replaced by the comraderies of their fellow Jedi.

He had woken with the sun, as usual. Harry stood out on the balcony of their quarters with his feet spread to the width of his shoulders. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, and his eyes closed, meditating. The wind fluttered his robes, and the sun shone in his face. Toma exited the apartment and began his own morning routine. Harry heard a fluttering of wings and a soft hoot and opened his eyes to find an odd-looking bird had perched itself on the balcony railing. It seemed exhausted, panting heavily and its feathers drooping. Tied to its leg was an envelope, addressed to Harry!

"What is this?" asked Harry.

"It appears to be a domesticated messenger bird, of some sort," answered Toma. Harry reached out and took the letter.

"Who would send me a letter by bird, and who would even know I'm here that isn't already here with me?" inquired the young Jedi.

"There's only one way to find out," answered Toma. Harry opened the letter and read it out loud.

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress"_

"Albus Dumbledore?" asked Harry. "That's the same person who left me on a doorstep all those years ago," he said. "What do they mean by witchcraft and wizardry, I wonder. Do they mean the Force? Here's the list of books and supplies." Toma was displeased that the old man had been able to track Harry here. He took the letter from Harry and studied it.

"The world of your birth does exhibit some strange characteristics of the Force," Toma mused. "It is entirely possible the Force users of your world call it magic. You have some form of Force core that the healers have never been able to fully explain."

"What do they mean by they await my owl?" asked Harry. Toma gestured at the bird that had delivered the letter.

"This must be an owl. I suppose it is supposed to return your reply," suggested the older Jedi."

"And what is my reply to be?" asked Harry. He couldn't help it. As much as he loved Toma, he was intrigued by this letter from his home planet.

"I must consult the Council. They will decide on what course of action is appropriate. I'm quite puzzled by the owl's presence, however. Your world did not have the knowledge or capabilities to reach past your own planetary system when I took you from there. I cannot imagine how they got the bird here."

* * *

The Council was stunned at the revelation. It was clear that the majority of the Council was not impressed with the thought of one of their Padawans leaving to study an unknown form of the Force outside the control of the Jedi. In the end, the matter was settled by Yoda. The Jedi Grandmaster had been meditating on the issue since Toma had reported the delivery of the invitation letter. That the letter had been delivered by an Earth bird was an extraordinary feat for a world that had no method of travelling away from their own world. From the moment he met the youngling, Yoda had believed Harry had some destiny to fulfil on his home planet. During his communion with the Force, the Jedi Grandmaster had received a vision which hinted to him of Harry's possible importance on his homeworld.

"Possible importance?" asked Toma. He was unhappy about the uncertainty. "Harry is doing very well in his studies, and is showing great promise, but he is still very young. This is a delicate time for him. With the exception of some interactions on missions, he has only been exposed to other Padawans. This school is an unknown, and if Harry is to attend, I would like to ask to be assigned to Earth to keep an eye on the situation.

"Granted, your request is," answered Yoda. "A close eye, keep if possible, but room to grow your Padawan must have as well. A surveillance vessel we shall send before you. Coordinates to Hogwarts, they shall provide."

"We will begin our preparations at once, Master," said Toma. He and Harry bowed before the assembled Masters.

"May the Force be with you," dismissed Yoda.

* * *

The Hogwart's Express had pulled into Hogsmeade. In the dark, Hagrid was calling all the first years to him. Dumbledore had asked him to keep an eye out for Harry. He gathered a bushy-haired girl who was taking in every sight there was to see around her, another redhead that must be another of the never-ending gingers, and a rather chubby boy clutching a fat toad, but no one that stood out as the son of James and Lilly Potter. Hagrid continued to call out for first years, put them four to a boat, and started them off across the lake to Hogwarts.

The staff was seated at the head table as the second through seventh years entered and began to take their places at the house tables. During this process, the deputy headmistress entered a side door and stood waiting. After all the students were seated, Albus nodded at McGonagall to bring in the first years for the sorting. She went back out the side door and then led the youngsters in and through the main hall to the three-legged stool that the sorting hat had been set on. Albus scrutinized the new students more thoroughly than they could be aware of but was dismayed to find no trace of Harry Potter. The students all stared at the hat as it sang its song for the year, explaining how the Hogwarts houses worked. After the students applauded, McGonagall explained how the sorting would happen, and began to call out student names.

Just as Justin Finch-Fletchley was called and put the hat on his head, the main hall doors opened. Two figures dressed in hooded robes quietly entered and made their way up the centre aisle. One was dressed in brown, the other in grey. As they walked up between the house tables, the students began to mutter to each other. None of the students could recall the Sorting Ceremony ever being interrupted before. As they approached the head table, Dumbledore stood. Remus Lupin, who had attended in the hopes that Harry would show up with the rest of his class, stood as well.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said. He was beginning to feel more excitement than he could remember ever feeling in his many years. They were missing only one student, after all, and he felt the long years of searching might finally be over. "To whom do we owe this honour?" he asked. The larger of the two robed figures lifted his hood. Dumbledore studied the man before him. He had mostly grey hair, a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, and grey eyes that took in everything around him.

"I am Master Toma Kendet," said the stranger, "and I am here to deliver a student." Dumbledore turned his attention to the grey-clad figure and tried to contain his excitement.

"And does this student have a name?" he asked, in what he hoped was his familiar, calm, grandfatherly voice. The student lifted his hood and at last Dumbledore met the eyes of the boy he had searched long and hard for. The green eyes, un-hindered by glasses like his father had been required to wear, took in the gaze of first Dumbledore, then each of the professors in turn.

"My Padawan Learner," presented Toma Kendet, startling the staff and students with the strange term, "Harry Potter."


	5. Chapter 5

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. Of course, for Star Wars, that means I could have the wise Jedi hide Luke Skywalker from Anakin Skywalker on the farm where Anakin's brother lives. Not even changing his name, or telling him Uncle Owen was his father. Subtlety is for lesser beings than Jedi._

* * *

The Great Hall erupted into excited conversations among students and faculty alike. A loud series of cannon blasts from Dumbledore's wand restored order.

"Everyone will please remain quiet and in your seats!" Albus called out. "Mr Kendet, I believe it was?" Toma nodded. "If you don't mind, I would like to speak with you in my office after the feast. You are quite welcome to join us, of course."

"Thank you," Toma accepted. He turned to face Harry, who was still staring at Dumbledore.

"Nothing to worry about," said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry. "Just some questions for registration purposes, and to get to know your background a bit. Please join the other students to be sorted into a house."

"May the Force be with you," Toma said to his Padawan, his head and shoulders dipping in a bow of respect. Harry bowed back to his Master.

"And with you, Master," he said respectfully. Dumbledore noted the phrase and concluded it must be related to this Jedi religion. He faced Toma.

"Please come around the head table and join us, Mr Kendet," Dumbledore invited. Toma made his way up and around the large table to sit next to the headmaster.

Harry joined the other students grouped near the three-legged stool. There were still about thirty students waiting to be sorted. Harry noticed it took some time for some students to be sorted, while for others, the hat shouted out a house name almost immediately. Three students had been sorted (a Gryffindor, a Hufflepuff, and a Slytherin) when McGonagall called "Granger, Hermione!" to the stool. She was a rather bushy-haired girl who gave Harry a shy smile as she passed him on her way to the sorting hat. The hat sat on her head for quite some time before it pronounced its decision.

"Gryffindor!" With a smile, she glanced back at Harry for a moment, then ran off to the Gryffindor table to be greeted by her housemates.

The sorting continued, as Harry noticed himself getting hungrier and hungrier. That was very odd, as his eating habits were well established by now and he'd not done any hard physical exercise other than his typical daily workout. Perhaps it was this 'magic' at work, to guarantee a successful feast. Eventually, after two twin girls named Patil and a short girl named Sally-Anne Perks, Harry's name was called.

"Potter, Harry!"

The Great Hall was silent as Harry came forward and sat on the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. It fit over his eyes and ears. After a moment, Harry could feel a tickle in his brain like something was being scanned. It felt like something had taken all the books from a library, flipped through them, and then put them all back where they came from, all in a moment.

"Difficult, most difficult," Harry heard the hat whisper in his ears. "Plenty of courage, not a bad mind, either. With your drive to succeed, you would do well in Slytherin, but since you do not wish to succeed for your own gain, you'd stand out, no, no, not there. Very heroic, but with very little bravado, that shouldn't be a problem for Gryffindor. Your analytical mind would serve you well in Ravenclaw, but they wouldn't take kindly to your quickness to action. And while you're loyal, I do not see that as your defining trait. No, I believe it better be..."

"Gryffindor!" The hat shouted the last word out for the entire hall to hear. Professor McGonagall lifted the hat from Harry's head, and he walked to the Gryffindor table. He saw Hermione Granger sitting at one end, and there was a seat open next to her.

"Excuse me, may I sit here?" he asked her. Hermione blushed slightly and nodded yes. He took his seat and watched the rest of the sorting. A red-haired boy named Weasley, Ronald became the last Gryffindor of the year. Finally, a dark-skinned boy named Zabini, Blaise became a Slytherin, and the sorting was finished.

* * *

After the ceremony, Dumbledore stood and addressed the school, saying he wanted to have a few words before they ate. Ron Weasley groaned slightly at the delay. His worry was for nought, though, as those few words turned out to be "Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment and Tweak." Everyone laughed and applauded as the headmaster then clapped his hands, said "Let the feast begin," and food magically appeared on the plates in front of them.

Harry had seen food dispensers plenty of times with the Jedi, but he had to admit the presentation was done with far more flair magically. The food was excellent as well. He kept himself to reasonable portions, though, knowing that to over-imbibe is to leave yourself vulnerable in a fight. It also would not do to have Master Kendet see him gorging himself like the Weasley boy was. Ronald was sitting directly across from Hermione Granger, and she looked a little green around the cheeks as she witnessed him attempt to stuff an entire chicken in his mouth. He succeeded, too.

Harry was quite intrigued by the girl, who had quite overcome her shyness and started spouting off every little factoid she had yet learned about Hogwarts. Ron seemed quite annoyed at this, but Harry was very appreciative. He knew nothing of this place, and it was to his benefit to learn it as quickly as possible. His friendship with Hermione seemed to be getting off to a great start as he peppered her with questions about Hogwarts, her life before Hogwarts, and anything else that came to mind. Hermione's friendship with Ron Weasley, however, was quite a bit rockier. The boy peppered her with bits of food as he talked with his mouth stuffed with chicken and potatoes. It was one of the most interesting evenings Harry could remember.

Once the feast was over, the first years were directed to follow one of their prefects, Percy Weasley, to the Gryffindor dormitory. He was a tall boy with red hair whom Ron confirmed was one of his many brothers. Together, the first years left the Great Hall and followed the older boy as he showed them a few particulars about the castle, such as the moving staircases. Harry wasn't sure why you wanted an interior that changed configurations frequently but supposed it could be useful to repel an attack by confusing any invaders. After a fairly lengthy walk, they came to a painting of a large woman. The lady in the painting looked around at the children gathered before her and asked for the password.

"Caput Draconis," Percy said, and the portrait swung opened to let them in.

During the feast, Dumbledore had refrained from asking Toma any questions, not wanting to have the answers overheard by any students. He looked him over, though, and saw a man who appeared quite relaxed given what must be a tense situation.

* * *

After watching the students file out to go to their dormitories, Dumbledore gestured for Toma to follow. He led the Jedi Master, Professor McGonagall, a tall man with thin black hair, and a man wearing rather worn-out robes and having slightly yellowish eyes up to the third floor where a large gargoyle statue stood. The stone golem nodded at the headmaster and moved to one side. The wall behind where it had stood parted like an elevator door, revealing a circular staircase twirling up. The stairs were unattached to anything and moving on their own. Each of them took a stair and headed up the Headmasters Tower to his office.

"Please, have a seat," invited Dumbledore. Toma sat down in one of the chairs directly in front of the headmaster's desk, while McGonagall sat beside him. The dark-haired man sat on a tall stool to the side of the large desk and looked like he'd prefer to be standing. The other man took the chair beside McGonagall. "I trust you enjoyed the feast?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes, it was quite enjoyable," answered Toma.

"May I offer you a lemon drop?" offered the headmaster, holding out a bowl of sweets. McGonagall briefly acquired a slightly sour look to her features, and the black-robed man on the stool rolled his eyes slightly. Dumbledore offered the sweets to anyone who came into his office. He didn't have very many takers usually, and none today.

"No, thank you," said Toma.

"This is Professor Minerva McGonagall, our Transfiguration professor," Dumbledore said, introducing the woman sitting in the chair to Toma's left. "And this is Professor Severus Snape, our Potions Master. Finally, this is Remus Lupin; he was a friend of Harry's parents when they were at school here. Remus has been leading the search for Harry." Toma nodded at each in turn.

"Professors, Mr Lupin," he greeted. "I am Jedi Master Toma Kendet. How may I be of service?" Dumbledore levelled his gaze at the man.

"To begin with, I must express my surprise to find Mr Potter in your custody. I appointed his Aunt and Uncle as his guardians, and was quite distraught to learn of his disappearance," the headmaster said, his voice losing some of its grandfatherly cheer and turning somewhat stern.

"I am sorry if you were distressed," stated Toma calmly. He was not surprised this subject had come up and decided to deal from a position of strength if questioned about it. "If you were so worried about the boy's well-being, perhaps you could first explain why you dropped him off on a doorstep in the middle of the night with no protection." Dumbledore's eyes went wide at the accusation.

"I take it you were the one who took him, then?" asked Dumbledore.

"I was," confirmed the Jedi Master.

"I assure you that, whatever you observed that night, he was not left unprotected," Dumbledore began to explain.

"He was certainly unprotected enough to allow me to take him without any resistance, or difficulty," Toma interjected.

"Indeed," answered Dumbledore. He was not happy with how this conversation had started and did not want to get into blood wards. That the blood wards had obviously failed to protect Harry at all would not help his case. Dumbledore decided to try and gather more information.

"Perhaps," he invited, "you would be so kind as to describe what occurred from your point of view."

Toma obliged him, describing in significant detail events that had happened almost ten years previously. Toma's account matched Dumbledore's memories of the events. The headmaster was not pleased at all with how his actions appeared through the eyes of a third party. It was clear that Professor McGonagall was agreeing with the stranger's position as well, which did not surprise the headmaster. McGonagall was quite loyal in most things, but he well remembered how vigorously the Transfiguration professor had objected to the boy being left there in the first place. Seeing Harry happy and healthy had cemented in her mind the idea that she was right. He was quite well aware that Harry would not be nearly so happy, nor as well-fed, if his plan had been followed.

"Perhaps," drawled the hawk-nosed Professor Snape, "you would be so kind, as to inform us of what a 'Jedi' is." Toma noticed that Snape spoke very calmly, but with a hint of menace behind his words. He inserted pauses in odd moments in his sentences as if he were a droid whose processing cycles were suddenly taken over by too much input and temporarily paused speaking to deal with the information flow. He was also forthright, staring Toma directly in the eyes as he spoke.

"A Jedi is a member of the Jedi Order," explained Toma. "The Order has existed for more than ten thousand years by the way you measure time. We are diplomats, students, teachers, and ambassadors. The Jedi are a peacekeeping group, dedicated to maintaining balance and peace in the galaxy. We do this by studying, using, and being vessels for the Force." Snape's eyes squinted at this information.

"Galaxy?" asked Lupin, shocked.

"The Force?" inquired Dumbledore. Toma answered Dumbledore first.

"The Force is an energy field that is created by all life. It is ever-present, and it binds the universe together. Certain people are born able to manipulate, and be manipulated by, the Force. In the Republic, Force-sensitive children such as Harry are trained as Jedi."

Toma turned to Lupin to answer his question. "The Republic is a democratic government which spans a third of the galaxy. It currently represents almost two hundred thousand planetary systems. It was formed approximately twenty-five thousand of your years ago, and the central system is Coruscant. That is where Harry and I live and study in the Jedi Temple."

Lupin sat back in his seat, stunned.

"Well, I suppose it was a UFO, after all!" he remarked.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Toma.

"Oh," said Lupin. "I've been trying to find Harry all of these years. The night you took him, muggles in the area reported seeing a UFO. That stands for' unidentified flying object.'"

"Muggles?" asked Toma.

"A certain portion of our population can use magic," explained Dumbledore. "Those who are capable of doing so are invited to attend one of the magic schools around the world. The vast majority of people do not have this capability, however, and are known by us as 'muggles.'"

"I see," said Toma. "Perhaps the Force and what you call magic are one and the same?" suggested Toma.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore allowed. He decided it was in his best interests to cooperate with Kendet, seeing how close he was to Harry. He still needed Harry, and he didn't think Kendet knew about the prophecy. Information was power, after all, and since he controlled the information flow, he directed the situation.

"Well, it grows late, and we still have a few things left to discuss. We did not receive your owl confirming that Harry would be attending. Did you receive his letter?" the headmaster asked.

"We did receive his acceptance letter, but we were uncertain of how to respond. We were also unsure where we could purchase supplies," answered Toma.

"I see," said Dumbledore. "How did Harry receive his letter if he was on… Coruscant, did you call it?"

"Yes," answered Toma. "It was quite remarkable. We were on the balcony of our quarters in the Jedi temple, and a large bird we believe to be an owl appeared, with a letter for Harry."

"An owl delivered a letter to another planet?" asked Professor Snape, his scepticism readily apparent.

"Yes," confirmed Toma. "We were unable to explain how it was able to make the journey, as we have confirmed your species has not yet ventured farther than your moon. The owl departed a few minutes after Harry took the letter, and it disappeared."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "That is the typical behaviour of a post owl. They will wait a short time to see if you wish to send a reply, but it will leave if you don't tell it to remain."

"We have visited the moon?" asked McGonagall. "When?"

"Muggles first landed on the moon in 1969, but the project only lasted for a few short years before being discontinued," informed Dumbledore. He made a point to keep far more up to date with the progress of the muggles than the vast majority of wizarding society. He was quite well informed about their technological advancements. McGonagall was stunned at the news.

"So how did an owl get to this… Croissant, was it?" asked a flustered McGonagall.

"Coruscant," corrected Toma. Professor Snape gave a snort of derision.

"Clearly it did not," he stated. "As amusing a tale as this is, I'm afraid I don't believe in little green men." Toma did not understand the reference but smiled at the description.

"That's a shame," said the Jedi Master. "One of the wisest men I know is both little and green."

"As we've never left our planet, owl deliveries between worlds has never been attempted before," said Dumbledore. "I hesitate to say it must have been magic, but that is likely the best explanation we can give at this time. I would be interested in performing some experiments on the travel of owls to other planets at a later date, but I feel we must move on for now."

"You say you were unable to obtain his school supplies?" asked McGonagall.

"The letter did not state where to purchase the materials from," Toma replied, "and the items were quite… specific."

"That can be remedied," Dumbledore said. "Classes begin at 9:45 tomorrow morning, so if we get an early start, we should be able to get you to Diagon Alley and back before then. I'll ask Hagrid, our groundskeeper, to escort you."

"If we are on a tight schedule," suggested Toma, "perhaps it would be more advisable to have one of Harry's professors escort us. Without intending offence to your groundskeeper, I'm sure a teacher would be able to expedite the purchases with greater ease. Professor Snape, perhaps?" The potions master's eyes grew wide at this.

"Headmaster," Snape objected, "I have classes to prepare for and have no time to escort a late student to purchase supplies that should have been obtained well in advance."

"Nonetheless," replied Dumbledore, "I agree with Mr Kendet. While Hagrid has my complete trust, time management is not one of his many strengths. I would like you to do this for me, Severus." Professor Snape gave his largest eye roll of the conversation and turned to Toma.

"You will arrive in the Great Hall ready to depart by portkey at 5:45 AM sharp," he instructed. "I do not have time to waste, and I would appreciate your being prompt." Toma nodded his agreement.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, and we will be ready," answered Toma, bowing his head towards the potions professor. He turned back to Dumbledore. "I will be renting quarters in the local village for the duration of Harry's time here at Hogwarts. In the interests of ensuring we do not inconvenience Master Snape longer than necessary, would it be possible for me to stay here for the night?" Snape's eyes twitched slightly at the title of 'Master' that Toma had addressed him with. Dumbledore nodded his consent.

"We will have a house-elf ready a room for you," the headmaster offered.

"Thank you," Toma acknowledged. "May the Force be with you." Toma rose from his chair. McGonagall stood and addressed him.

"Mr Kendet, I am Minerva McGonagall. I am Harry's head of house. I will inform him of your errand tonight, and will ensure he arrives at the Great Hall on time."

"Thank you, Professor," Toma replied. With that, the meeting concluded.

* * *

After being shown the Common Room, Harry and the four boys who were also placed in Gryffindor first year climbed the stairs to find their beds. Dean Thomas was a tall, black boy who got along very well with Seamus Finnegan, a rather untidily dressed boy with a thick Irish accent. Neville Longbottom was a rather chubby and forgetful boy who seemed quite sad. He was clutching a large toad as if he were afraid he'd lose it. Finally, Ronald Weasley, who seemed quite fascinated with Harry, was telling him all about the Chudley Cannons.

Ron seemed quite put out that Harry had never heard of Quidditch before. Neither Ron nor Harry were particularly tired, so Ron decided to educate Harry on the sport. As Dean and Seamus were already starting to lightly snore, Ron dragged Harry back down to the common room to tell him all about the positions and rules of the game. They had been at it for quite a while when McGonagall entered to inform Harry of his trip to Diagon Alley in the morning. Harry noticed her entrance, but Ron kept his lecture going as the deputy headmistress came behind him. She cleared her throat, and Ron finally noticed her.

"Mr Potter, I have just come from a meeting with your… With Toma Kendet," the professor said. "You are to travel with him and Professor Snape to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning to obtain your school supplies. Please be in the Great Hall promptly at 5:40 AM. It will not do at all to be late."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said.

"It's going to be a busy day for the two of you, particularly you Mr Potter," the stern-faced woman said. "Perhaps you can regale him with tales of the Cannon's prowess at Quidditch another time, Mr Weasley?" Ron looked quite affronted at this.

"But I've barely got started," he protested. Professor McGonagall gave a slight smile and departed.

"Well," Harry said to Ron, "I do need to be up pretty early. We'd better head to bed."

Ron reluctantly agreed, and together they climbed back into their dormitory, crawled into their beds, and fell asleep.

* * *

Harry woke before any of his roommates, dressed in his Jedi robes, and met Professor McGonagall just as she was approaching the entrance portrait. She was quite impressed at his promptness, and they made it to the Great Hall at 5:38 AM. Professor Snape and Master Kendet were already there, waiting on him. Professor Snape took a piece of rope out of an inner pocket and showed it to the two Jedi.

"Have either of you ever travelled by portkey before?" the potions master inquired.

"No," answered Toma. Professor Snape began to lead them out of the Great Hall.

"You will simply need to grab hold of this rope at precisely 5:45 AM. It is set to return to the Hogwarts courtyard at exactly 9:30 AM this morning, so do not become separated." They had exited the castle, and the professor stopped short at the sight of the two Jedi starfighters that were still parked on the courtyard lawn. He stared at Toma and Harry for a moment, and then asked, "These are yours, I presume?"

"Yes," answered Toma. "They will not be remaining here, however."

He called out to the two astromech droids that were waiting for instructions in the fighters.

"R5, R8! Close up the ships and take off. Use standard evasion protocols and engage the EM cloaks, try not to be detected. Fly to Earth's moon and land in a safe location. Set up a monitoring station and listen for any Jedi transmissions. Relay any instructions from the Jedi Council directly to me. Remain there until you are summoned."

Snape's eyes went wide as the two droids whistled, beeped, and spun their head domes to acknowledge their orders. With the droids plugged directly into the sensors and controls, preflight took only a few seconds. The engines rotated and whined. The robes of the Jedi and the potions professor billowed around them as the vertical thrusters came online.

The two Jedi starfighters rose twentynfeet into the air and raised their landing gear. They tilted back to point their noses at the sky, then accelerated rapidly under their main engines. Within 20 seconds, they were out of visual range. Snape shook his head slowly in disbelief. He took a pocket watch out of his robes and checked the time.

"It is time," he declared. "Grab hold of the rope, and do not release it until we have arrived." Toma and Harry each took hold of an end of the rope, with Snape holding onto the middle. At precisely 5:45 AM, Harry felt an odd sensation like a hook pulling at his navel, and they were gone.

* * *

Within moments, they had landed in Diagon Alley. Harry fell over, not expecting the abrupt stop. Toma nearly did as well but managed to keep his balance. Professor Snape did not even sway. He gave Toma a look of grudging respect at keeping his feet and began walking briskly past shops and stores towards a large, white building with crooked columns in front of the tall wooden doors. Toma helped Harry to his feet, and they rushed to keep up.

"Where are we going first, Master Snape?" asked Harry.

"Your supplies must be paid for, Mr Potter," answered Professor Snape, again starting at the title of Master. "We must first visit Gringotts bank to obtain an adequate supply of Galleons."

They arrived at the bank shortly before it opened at 6:00 AM, and were first in the doors once they opened. As they walked quickly up the central aisle, Harry observed strange creatures counting vast piles of gold coins and enormous gemstones. Being quite used to different species of an incredible variety on Coruscant, he did not question this, but he did observe them quietly. They reached the row of teller stations and waited for the goblin behind the desk to acknowledge them.

"May I help you?" asked the teller.

"I am escorting Harry Potter to his vault," explained Professor Snape. The goblin looked Harry over closely. The goblin was quite well dressed. His long, crooked nose extended four inches out from his face and supported square-framed glasses that did nothing to conceal the intelligence in his eyes.

"And does Mr Harry Potter have his key?" he asked, suspicion evident in his tone of voice.

"Of course," answered the professor, placing it on the counter before the teller. The goblin looked it over and apparently approved of it.

"This seems to be in order," he said. "I will have someone assist you." He gave the key back to Professor Snape. "Griphook!" he called out. Griphook was a shorter goblin who was dressed in an impeccable suit. He reported to the teller goblin at once.

"Take these customers down to vault 687, please," the teller instructed.

"Follow me, please," Griphook said. "He led them to a cart that was in a boarding station near the teller windows. They boarded the cart and Griphook grabbed a large lever and pushed it forward. The cart moved forward, quickly picking up speed and rushing them down into the depths of the bank.

Harry was quite surprised to find that he had a small fortune in gold coins that were left to him by his parents. He noticed that Professor Snape seemed quite angry to see it, but the teacher did not say anything. Harry wasn't sure if it was the amount that angered the professor, or if he was angry at the presence of Master Toma. Toma did not respond to Snape's rudeness or taunts, and it seemed to infuriate the potions master. Snape was certainly a surly man, Harry mused. Harry paused after about 6 large fistfuls of gold had made their way into a red drawstring bag Griphook provided, with the Gringotts logo embroidered on the front. The bag was quite remarkable. It didn't seem to matter how much gold went into it, as it never filled nor bulged like a bag of gold should. Harry felt the need to check twice to make sure the gold was actually in the bag.

"Master Snape, how much should I take?" he asked. He didn't want to waste time by coming back later if he didn't obtain enough, but he didn't want to annoy the professor by taking too long shoving gold in a bag, either.

"What you have now will be more than sufficient, Mr Potter," replied the professor, impatience eating away at his words. "We must leave."

Harry stood immediately, closed the drawstring bag, and they left the vault. Griphook handed Harry his key after locking the vault door and ushered them into the waiting cart. In a matter of minutes, they were delivered to the lobby of the bank, and they walked out into the morning sun.

"Where to next, Master Snape," Harry asked.

"Why do you keep calling me 'Master', Mr Potter?" asked Professor Snape. He led them back down the alley towards a cluster of shops. He gestured for Harry to answer him while they walked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but aren't you the potions master?" the young Jedi asked.

"I am," answered Professor Snape. "However, the title 'Master' is not generally used for the position. You may call me Professor, or sir."

"As you wish, Professor," acknowledged Harry. They approached a small store with the name 'Olivander's' written in faded gold letters on the marquee above the door.

"This will likely take the longest of any of our tasks this morning," explained Professor Snape. "We should start here."

They entered the store, and a small, white-haired man came out from the rows of shelves that were situated behind the counter.

"I wondered when I would see you here, Mr Potter," said the man, clearly recognizing who was in his shop. "It seems only yesterday that your mother and father were in here buying their first wands."

"If you don't mind," interrupted Professor Snape, "we are on a very tight schedule and have little time to waste. Mr Potter and I need to be back at the school before classes begin, and your shop is only our first stop this morning." Mr Olivander was not pleased with the interruption but obliged to get Harry measured without regaling him with tales of his parents. After getting his measurements, he had Harry try out wand after wand for what seemed like hours. Harry was getting quite worried about the time, especially after seeing the sour look on the potions professor's face. Finally, he took hold of a Holly and Phoenix feather wand and was rewarded with a burst of wind and a glow of magic that surrounded him.

"Curious!" exclaimed Mr Olivander.

"Finally," drawled the exasperated professor.

Toma looked intrigued but knew Professor Snape would not stand for any further delay. The Jedi Master decided he would come back on his own to learn all he could. He was intrigued by the idea of a wand, and Mr Olivander seemed like he would be a good source of information.

Harry purchased the wand for seven Galleons. Mr Olivander took his time about boxing it, however. He was obviously still offended at being rushed by the professor and seemed to be taking a great deal of pleasure in finding any excuse to slow the process down. He insisted on giving the wand an extra polish, instructed Harry in proper wand maintenance, and even tied a ribbon around the wand box, even though it was empty. Harry was still holding his wand.

Professor Snape, who was growing increasingly impatient, looked like he was about to drag Harry out of the store. Olivander began telling Harry that his wand was the brother to the wand that had caused Harry's scar. Professor Snape immediately grew quiet and still. He looked thoughtfully at Harry and did not even complain when Harry added an arm holster for 2 Galleons. He stood thoughtfully gazing at Harry even when the young boy took the time to put the new holster on and fit his wand into it. Finally, they left the store.

* * *

They next had Harry fitted for wizarding robes. Taking off his outer cloak to be measured, Professor Snape noticed a silver cylinder shaped like a muggle flashlight hanging from a belt on Harry's waist. The fitting did not take long as there were no other customers. Harry ordered several sets of robes, and Madam Malkin agreed to ship the parcels to Hogwarts when they were finished. Professor Snape stated that his Jedi robes would suffice until his school clothes arrived in a few days.

The potions professor showed the most patience in the apothecary, where he actually advised Harry on which ingredients to purchase in addition to what was on the school list. Harry took a chance and asked why the extra ingredients were needed.

"If by chance, you have inherited your mother's potion ability, the extra ingredients will be well used," the professor explained. "If, on the other hand, you inherited your father's lamentable skills, the extra ingredients will be used to correct your improperly made potions," Snape said.

Harry asked no further questions after that.

The rest of the morning was spent in a flurry of activity. The final stop was to obtained Harry's schoolbooks at Flourish and Blotts. They had just exited the bookshop when a huge man showed up and greeted Professor Snape.

"Hello, Professor," greeted the giant man, cheerfully. He had a large, round package covered in paper in one hand.

"What are you doing here, Hagrid?" Professor Snape asked.

'Dumbledore sent me to help ya bring Harry's packages to the castle," explained Hagrid. "And because I never got yer a birthday present," he said to Harry, "I got yer a little summat." He ripped the paper off of the package to reveal a beautiful white owl on a perch in a brass cage.

"Thank you!" exclaimed Harry. He took the cage from Hagrid. Boy and owl looked each other over for the first time.

"She's a post owl," explained Hagrid. "Owls are dead useful; deliver yer mail and all."

"That is indeed very useful, Hagrid," interrupted the impatient Professor Snape. "I can quite understand how increasing the package count is helping us." Hagrid didn't look offended at all.

"Now don't ya worry about a thing," Hagrid said. "Just give it all to me, and I'll have it back at Hogwarts in a jiffy."

Harry set aside the books that Professor Snape confirmed he would need on this first day. He added a quill and ink set, and a package of parchment. Harry already had his wand in his holster. He gave the rest of the packages to Hagrid, who was able to carry it all without even appearing overloaded. Not even the owl's large cage added appreciably to his burden. The groundskeeper took it all and left to make his own way back to the castle. Their arms now unburdened, the two Jedi gathered around Professor Snape. Snape took the rope out of his pocket and checked the time on his pocket watch.

"Grab hold," he instructed. "It is time."

Taking one end of the rope, Harry braced himself for the return visit. All three were able to keep their feet on landing this time, and Harry once again found himself in the Hogwarts courtyard. Professor Snape immediately left to enter the castle, ignoring the thanks that Harry called after him. When they were alone, Harry turned to his Master.

"Why did Professor Snape escort us, Master?" he asked. "He clearly doesn't like me."

"No, I'm afraid he does not," Toma answered. "The headmaster was going to assign Hagrid to the task, but I requested that he change the assignment to Professor Snape, instead."

"May I ask why, Master?" inquired the curious Padawan.

"Because," answered the Jedi Master. "Professor Snape was the only person in the room who, to the best of my knowledge, had nothing to do with either leaving you on a doorstep or searching for you later." With that, Harry had to be content. He only had ten minutes left to rush to classroom 2E in the Charms corridor on the third floor to get to his first class on time.

"May the Force be with you, Master," Harry said, before running into the castle. Toma watched him as he entered the large oak doors. He stood there for some time after.

"May the Force always be with you, Harry Potter," he said quietly to himself, before beginning his walk to Hogsmeade to rent a room.

After the Jedi Master rounded the corner and was out of sight, a man in tattered robes and a thoughtful expression removed the invisibility cloak he was wearing and looked in the direction that Toma Kendet had walked. Remus Lupin was standing to one side of the gravel path that led up to the castle doors. He had made sure he wasn't standing on the grass to avoid leaving footprints he was confident the observant Jedi would notice.

He was quite certain that James and Lily would not be happy with him for eavesdropping on their son, but he was under orders from Dumbledore to try to obtain as much information on the Jedi as possible. To his surprise, he found himself quite liking the Jedi Master as he tailed them through Diagon Alley this morning. The calm manner in which he handled Snape's increasing irritation certainly got the professor's crooked nose out of joint. Though Remus was far too professional to say such a thing out loud, he certainly approved of anything that made the dour man's day that much less pleasant.

Toma Kendet was quite attentive to Harry, Remus had noticed, and clearly cared a great deal for him. Remus turned to face the castle door, where Harry had entered to join his classmates.

"May the Force be with you, indeed, Harry Potter," he said. Remus Lupin stowed the invisibility cloak in his robes and left to report on his findings to Dumbledore.


	6. Chapter 6

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. Of course, for Harry Potter, that means I could have the wisest of all wizards protect an incredibly powerful magical artefact with a guard dog that can be put to sleep indefinitely by setting your iPod on repeat, but it already worked so well._

* * *

Harry Potter made it to his first charms class with only seconds to spare. He took the last available seat just as the Charms professor, a tiny man named Professor Flitwick, started to take roll. Professor Flitwick was a very excitable old man who nearly fell over when he read Harry's name. Harry felt he was standing out quite a bit dressed in his grey Jedi robes while everyone around him wore in black Hogwarts school attire. He hoped his new robes arrived soon, as he wasn't used to quite this much scrutiny. On this first day of class, there was no magic to be done. Professor Flitwick covered a quick orientation to charms and then began to teach the students how to write with a quill. Filius Flitwick was a kind man, who recognized that Muggle-borns who had used ballpoint pens all their lives quite often took some time to learn to write correctly with a quill.

"And some of the magically raised could probably do with a refresher as well," he squeaked. "This is as much for my benefit as it is for yours," he told the students, "as it means I have far less indecipherable papers covered in blotches and smears."

Harry was very appreciative of the lesson, as he usually used keyboards for any writing assignments with the Jedi. He had never even considered the possibility of using bird feathers to write with. They were assigned lines to practice, writing the phrase Flitwick had transcribed on the blackboard. Hermione, of course, was a Muggle-born, but she nonetheless took to a quill with the ease of one born to it. She demonstrated a very tidy script that earned Gryffindor five points from the tiny professor. Many of the half-bloods and pure-bloods wrote legibly, though with varying degrees of tidiness. Ron's handwriting, according to Hermione, looked more like an inkblot test for a muggle psychiatrist. Harry didn't show her his paper, which was covered with drips and smears, but he felt his wasn't any better than Ron's. Flitwick assigned the class an essay covering the first chapter of their textbook as writing practice.

* * *

"Ahh, Remus," said Dumbledore. "Please sit down. Would you care for a lemon sherbet?"

"No, thank you," Lupin said. As students, he and the other marauders once had a very lively debate on whether anyone had ever actually taken a lemon drop from the Headmaster.

"I take it your assignment went well?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes," answered Remus. "I was unobserved and was able to maintain surveillance for most of the morning. I couldn't tail them into Gringotts, of course, but I was able to follow them for all of their other stops."

"Of course," said Dumbledore. "And did you gain any insight into the Jedi, and what their motivations with young Mr Potter may be?"

"Very little, in fact," answered Remus. "If they had been escorted by someone with more... social skills than Severus, then perhaps..."

"Ah... I am sorry about that," said Dumbledore. "I was going to send Hagrid, but Mr Kendet requested Professor Snape accompany them."

"I wondered about that," said Remus. "Hagrid would have loved to do it. In fact, he even showed up and gave Harry his owl."

"Indeed," answered Dumbledore. "I was somewhat startled when Mr Kendet made the suggestion. Not nearly as shocked as Severus was, I'm sure."

"I'll bet," said Remus. "Any idea why he requested Snape?"

"A guess alone," answered Dumbledore. "He was informed in last night's meeting that you had been searching for Harry for years. He witnessed Harry being left on the Dursley doorstep by myself, Minerva, and Hagrid. Severus was, therefore, the only person in the room he could have requested that had, to his knowledge, nothing to do with Harry being left there."

Remus Lupin was shocked at how Dumbledore had just deduced the exact reasons that Toma Kendet had given to Harry only a few minutes before.

"Yes, well," Remus said as he went through his notes. "The only other thing of interest I have to report is that neither Mr Kendet nor Harry responded in any way that I could perceive to Severus's verbal attacks."

"Attacks?" inquired Dumbledore.

"He was quite... brusque with them," Remus reported. "To be honest, he wasn't nearly as acerbic as I feared he would be when I first saw who was escorting Harry. He certainly did not encourage them to speak of themselves."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "I will speak with him again, but I do not expect it will be heeded."

"At any rate," said Remus, "I was able to look up some concepts last night based on what Mr Kendet said in the meeting. I believe, based on his description of 'The Force,' that the 'Jedi' belong to a religion similar to Taoism. 'The Force' being created by all creatures, and the Jedi being vessels of the 'The Force,' these concepts are similar to Taoism."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "Well, Remus, I do thank you for your assistance. I know that the additional time you have taken from your work is likely to cause frictions between you and your employer. Do you foresee any difficulties in retaining your job?"

"No," answered Remus. "It's been a good stretch for me, and I was able to arrange vacation time for this week. I knew when term started, of course, so I planned ahead. I do need to be getting back, though."

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "I do appreciate all of your efforts over the years. I do not foresee that I will require your services for the immediate future, so you are free to return home. I hope you understand that I am not sending you away. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish."

"Thank you," said Remus. "As much as I'd love to stay and get to know Harry, I do still need to earn my living, and my vacation is over."

"I may be able to arrange something for you closer to home," Dumbledore said. "You need only ask."

"That is kind of you," said Remus. "I'm good for now, I think. It eases my mind just to know he is found. I'll let him settle for a while before I indulge myself in renewing our acquaintance."

"As you wish," said Dumbledore.

* * *

At 11:00 AM, the first year Gryffindor students attended History of Magic. Harry was surprised to find that it was taught by a ghost. As a Jedi, Harry was training to be a diplomat and ambassador as well as a warrior. He recognized that history was an essential part of his education. Professor Binns, however, could bore the legs off of a Tatooine Eopie and still make it run to get away from him. His first lesson began in the middle of a chapter as if he had been teaching without students the entire summer and had simply not noticed. Harry wondered if he were to come back after term and check, would he find an empty classroom other than the old ghost talking about goblin revolutions to empty chairs. Harry was becoming alarmed that he was only in his second class and was already having to use some meditation techniques to keep from becoming frustrated. He knew that, similar to learning the Force, learning magic would not always be easy or fun. He did hope, however, that they'd get to something interesting soon.

After the longest hour Harry could remember, they were released for lunch. He sat with Hermione and compared notes from their history class. Harry was quite amazed at Hermione's ability to transcribe nearly word for word many of the ghosts sentences legibly, and he was a bit embarrassed at his own attempts. Hermione confessed that she had practised with calligraphy sets for years before she learned about Hogwarts, and that had helped her a lot. She gave him some pointers about the angle he was holding his quill, where to position his hand to avoid smearing the wet ink, and how to prevent most of the drips that dotted his parchment. Ron ate his lunch. He ate most of Harry's lunch as well since Harry was busy talking to Hermione.

Harry was finally allowed to take out his wand in his next class, Transfiguration. This was one of the lessons he was greatly anticipating. He was quite impressed when the teacher, the stern-looking Professor McGonagall, turned her desk into a pig and back. Under normal circumstances, he would probably have questioned why you would want to turn your desk into a pig, but he was far too eager to try it himself to ask. He quickly found out that they would not be performing at that level for years yet, and were assigned the less impressive, but no less magical task of trying to turn a matchstick into a pin.

Harry paid attention to Professor McGonagall and took notes with the rest of the class as she demonstrated how to hold their wand, the proper movement of the instrument, and the incantation they were to say as they waved it above the matchstick. When finally given permission to make an attempt, Harry took a deep breath, waved his wand above the matchstick in the pattern the professor had described and said the incantation. In a stunning display of magic, the matchstick did… nothing.

Harry looked around him and found that he was not alone in getting no results. Harry tried again and again for the remainder of the class but didn't alter his matchstick in the slightest. He took comfort in the fact that only Hermione had changed her matchstick at all. He began to wonder why it was so easy for him to use the Force, but so difficult to focus it through a wand.

Professor McGonagall kept him behind after class to inform him of some of the things he had missed at the opening feast. The most important of these notices was that students were forbidden from entering the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side, though the deputy headmistress left off the death threat Dumbledore had added during his speech.

* * *

The final class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts, with Professor Quirrell. The professor was a very odd man, who wore a large purple turban that looked quite out of place, both at Hogwarts and on his head. He told the students it was a gift from an African prince as a reward for defeating a zombie, but the students entertained a good deal of doubt about that. He stuttered quite a lot and seemed to fear absolutely everything.

Something unusual had begun happening in the defence classroom, as well. Any time Professor Quirrell turned his back to write something on the board, the scar that was still present on Harry's forehead began to sting. This scar had always puzzled the Jedi, who had tried numerous times to heal it. Eventually, the healers decided that since it wasn't physically hurting Harry, they would leave it alone. They were able to detect a strange energy emanating from the scar, but could never define what type of energy it was, or the source. It had not bothered Harry since the day Toma had healed it with a bacta bandage, but it had never gone completely away, either.

Harry did not think it coincidental that it began hurting on his first day of magical classes, but could not come up with a reason it started in this classroom. After it gave him a particularly sharp twinge when Harry asked the professor a question, Harry tried a meditation technique to clear his mind. The pain immediately stopped, and Harry was able to concentrate again.

* * *

Harry spent the afternoon working on his charms essay. The tips he received from Hermione had helped a great deal already. Ron came over with a chessboard and offered to teach Harry how to play. Ron beat him soundly on the first game, but Harry learned quickly. The second game was a long, drawn-out affair that lasted until dinnertime. Harry finally pinned down Ron's king to win the game. During all of this, Hermione was writing her charms essay, doing her history homework, looking up the next chapter they were to cover in DADA, and reading ahead in all of her classes.

That night at dinner, Harry's scar hurt again. It occurred as he noticed Professor Snape, who was sitting next to Professor Quirrell, staring at him with that piercing expression he had perfected. Harry closed his eyes and renewed his mental shields. The pain drifted back to nothingness, and Harry continued to eat.

The next morning, Hedwig and several barn owls turned up at breakfast delivering packages that turned out to be his school robes. Harry returned to his dormitory and changed into them as soon as he was finished with breakfast. He had kept the Jedi style tunic, pants and belt, and wore the school robes over this. He felt it was far more comfortable this way, and did not want to totally abandon the only culture he could remember. His lightsaber would be worn underneath the outer robes as well, but the more constricting school uniform did not have as many places to conceal the rest of the tools he was used to carrying, so they would have to remain in the trunk he had purchased.

* * *

The rest of the week was much of the same. The first class in a subject was generally an introduction and orientation, followed by the taking of quite a few notes. As the week went on and they were taught the introductory theory, a beginning practical lesson was held. Harry was starting to get some results from his wand but was not comfortable channelling the Force through the unfamiliar instrument yet. Friday saw the most challenging day Harry had yet experienced at Hogwarts. This was his first potions class.

Professor Snape, it seemed, had not yet forgiven Harry for being required to escort him off campus to obtain his school supplies. After singling Harry out during the roll call, he asked some complicated questions regarding ingredients Harry had not yet heard of. Harry had read the first couple of chapters from Magical Drafts and Potions. Only having obtained his books less than a week before, though, he had yet encountered references to Asphodel, Wormwood, bezoars, monkshood or wolfs-bane. In fact, only Hermione could answer the surly professor's questions, but Snape ignored her and took points from Harry.

* * *

Harry reported each night to Toma by way of a communicator. The Jedi Master had rented a small room above the Three Broomsticks and had spent his week getting familiar with the village and learning as much as he could about the wizarding world on this strange planet. Harry told his Master about the classes he was taking, what he learned in them, as well as the friends that he had made. Toma was quite concerned about Harry's report regarding his scar hurting but was pleased Harry was able to control it using his meditation techniques. Meditation had not been an easy task for Harry to learn, as he was naturally impulsive. Toma wanted Harry to integrate into this new culture but didn't want him to lose sight of his Jedi training, either.

* * *

The weeks passed quickly for Harry. He woke every morning before any of his dorm mates and left the castle for his morning exercises on the castle grounds. These included a warm-up run to the lake, and then lightsaber drills. One of his favourite activities required him to hold his lightsaber as still as possible while he twisted and spun his body over, under, and around the blade. Sometimes holding the weapon and sometimes leaving it suspended in the air by the Force, he would get as close to the shining emerald green beam as possible without touching it.

It was his second training lightsaber, given to him when his body and skills had outgrown the first. He was quite fond of it and practised with it daily. While it was considered a training lightsaber, it was only a trainer in name alone. The blade was in full operational mode and would remain so unless Harry was ordered to disable it by Toma. At his Master's request, he never performed his lightsaber exercises within sight of the castle. Toma expected Harry to keep up with his Jedi training but also wanted the weapons to remain a secret for as long as possible. After his practice, he would jog back to the castle and return to his dormitory. After showering and dressing, he meditated in the Common Room until his classmates started coming down. Breakfast followed, and then classes.

* * *

Out of all the students at Hogwarts, the only one Harry found himself actively disliking was a first-year Slytherin student named Draco Malfoy. The arrogant young man seemed to waste no opportunity to mock Harry, throwing his status around like being a pure-blood was akin to royalty. Harry did not generally respond to these provocations, except to try to stay out of Draco's way. Malfoy soon found ways to get Harry to respond, however. In their very first flying class, Malfoy took advantage of an accident which caused Neville Longbottom to break his wrist. Even though the flying instructor, Madam Hooch, had expressly forbidden any flying while she was away, Malfoy had stolen Neville's dropped Remembrall. He had then flown off to taunt Harry with it.

"Come and get it, Potter!" called out Malfoy. He was holding the small sphere out while holding his broom with one hand. Harry reached his hand out to Malfoy. Draco laughed. "You're not going to be able to reach it from down there, Potter!" he yelled at the strange boy. Suddenly, the Remembrall flew out of his hand and sped down to Harry, who caught it just as Madam Hooch was returning. Malfoy received detention for flying without permission and swore to get back at Harry.

Harry was frequently invited to have tea with Hagrid, and he was forming a great friendship with the giant man. Hagrid had a large dog named Fang, who was quite possibly the laziest animal Harry had encountered on any of the worlds he had visited. Hagrid was able to provide a lot of background information to Harry but refused to speculate on why Professor Snape seemed to hate him.

* * *

Before anyone knew it, it was already Halloween. Harry was still finding that doing magic was quite a bit more complicated than manipulating the Force, but was improving. In Charms, Professor Flitwick said they were finally ready to start trying to make objects levitate. He handed each of his students a feather and showed them the proper wand movement and incantation. Harry, along with most of his class, made an attempt, with varying degrees of success in imitating the swish and flick they had been shown. Ron looked like he was trying to bludgeon the feather into flight, prompting Hermione to attempt to correct him. He did not take the instructions she gave him well and was even more put off when she demonstrated that her advice was sound by being the first in the class to levitate her feather.

"She's a nightmare, honestly!" Ron lamented after class. They were walking through the courtyard to get to their next class. "It's no wonder she hasn't any friends." Suddenly, Hermione rushed past the boys and ran into the castle.

"That was uncalled for, Ron," Harry said.

"What?" defended the redhead. "No one can stand her, Harry."

"I certainly can," stated Harry, "and she is my friend. You need to apologize to her before Transfiguration starts."

"But…" started Ron, but Harry would not hear any excuses.

"No, Ron," declared Harry. "I know she can be a lot to take in, but she did not deserve what you said."

"Fine," said Ron. He knew that he had gone too far, but like most boys his age, admitting this was exceedingly difficult.

* * *

Ron did not get a chance to apologize before class, however, as Hermione never showed up. They did not see her the rest of the day, in fact. After classes were concluded, Harry dragged Ron around the castle, trying to find her but had no success. When Harry and Ron entered the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, though, they overheard two of the Gryffindor girls talking about how she had been in the girl's bathroom all day, crying. Ron felt quite bad about this and didn't even need Harry to prod him into going to find her. They left immediately, rushing to the girl's bathroom closest to the courtyard where they had last seen Hermione. As they approached the corridor where the bathroom was located, however, they heard heavy breathing and the thudding sound of enormous footfalls. They rounded the final corner to find a massive, greenish skinned troll with a huge wooden club open a door and peer in. A high-pitched scream echoed out of the room, and the boys realized what room it was. Harry and Ron looked at each other in horror as the troll entered the girl's bathroom.

"Come on!" Harry yelled as he rushed to the door and flung it open. Hermione was backed into a corner, the bulk of the monster blocking any possibility of escape. She saw Harry enter, followed by Ron.

"Distract it!" yelled Harry as he quickly pulled off his Hogwarts robe to reveal his Jedi tunic beneath. Ron began throwing debris at the troll, trying to keep it off of Hermione. Harry pulled his lightsaber free from his belt, and held it out, pointed down at about a 45° angle. Hermione saw him do this and did not think much of his strategy to distract the troll with a flashlight. She was about to voice her opinion on this when Harry switched it on. With a hum of power, a brilliant emerald green blade of light erupted from the handle! Both Hermione and, more importantly, the troll was stunned into motionlessness at the sight and sound of the strange device. The troll let out a growl and advanced on Harry. It swung its club at the young Jedi. Harry reacted instantly, swinging his weapon up and then back down, the lightsaber parting the club into three pieces! Two of the pieces fell to the ground, leaving the troll to stare in confusion at the tiny bit it still held. With a roar of rage, it threw the stub at Ron, who was still pelting it with pieces of wood, glass, and porcelain. Ron squealed and ducked to avoid the speeding missile.

"Back down!" Harry yelled at the troll. "I don't want to hurt you!"

"What?" he heard Ron squeak, clearly not believing his ears. In answer, the troll raised its hands into the air, clasped them together into a fist, and with a roar brought the fist down to smash the Jedi! With no other choices, Harry spun out of the way, his lightsaber swinging in an arc around him. The troll howled in pain and anger as its hands were severed from its arms at the wrists by the shining blade of light. Harry backed off, gaining some distance. Now both furious and in immense pain, the monster charged at Harry.

The young Jedi threw his lightsaber at the hulking troll. Spinning as it flew through across the bathroom, the green blade slashed into the hulking troll, piercing its heart! The hilt of the lightsaber remained to stick out from the monster's chest. The troll, still propelled forward by its momentum, crashed to the floor with a ground-shaking thud. Ron and Hermione were stunned into silence at the sight of Harry standing above the vanquished beast. His lightsaber retracted from the body and flew back to the young Jedi. Harry powered off the weapon and replaced it on his belt. He offered his hand to Hermione, who was still sitting in a pile of debris on the floor. He helped her to her feet and was instantly smothered in a hug from the grateful girl.

"You will always have a friend with me," declared Harry. This squeezed more tears from Hermione, but they were good tears. Where before they were tears of despair, this strange boy had turned them into tears of relief and joy.

"Bloody Hell, Harry," Ron exclaimed. He was staring at the body of the troll, trying to come to grips with what he had seen.

The door to the bathroom suddenly slammed open, and Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell rushed in. With looks of shock and amazement, they took in the scene.

"Explain yourselves!" ordered Professor McGonagall. "All three of you are out of bounds! You were all ordered to your dormitories. What were you thinking, wandering the halls on your own?"

"We didn't know, Professor," Harry defended. "When we left the Great Hall, everything was fine, and we weren't told to return to our dormitories." Ron nodded his agreement with Harry's statement.

"Then what on earth were you and Mr Weasley doing in the girl's bathroom?" asked an incredulous McGonagall.

"Please, professor," whimpered Hermione. "They were looking for me."

"Miss Granger?" inquired McGonagall, not liking to think her favourite student had something to do with this. She had noted the girl's absence from class that day and had wondered if she was ill.

"Ron and I noticed that Hermione wasn't at dinner," interjected Harry. "We had heard she was upset and left the Great Hall to find her." Snape looked disbelieving at this and gave McGonagall a look that clearly stated he didn't believe this. Quirrell was hardly listening at all, examining the troll and its various injuries. McGonagall also noticed the trolls missing hands.

"How did you do this?" she asked. Harry didn't answer at first, and Snape advanced on him.

"You have been asked a question by a Hogwarts professor, Mr Potter," the potions teacher said, closing the distance between them. "You will answer this question immediately!" Harry, not having any options available to him, removed the lightsaber from his belt.

"With this," he explained, switching it on. He would have been entertained by the stunned looks each professor wore, had Harry not been worrying what Toma would be saying to him about this later.

"What in the world is that?" asked a shocked McGonagall. Professors Snape and Quirrell were staring at the shining blade in the hands of the young student.

"It is a lightsaber," explained Harry. "It's the weapon and tool of the Jedi Knights, and we are trained in its use from the moment we're old enough to hold one."

"You will turn that device off and hand it over to me this instant!" demanded Professor Snape. He was furious that the boy was carrying some alien weapon around the halls of Hogwarts. Harry wasn't about to give it to him, though.

"I cannot do that, Professor," said Harry.

"You will hand it over or be expelled!" shouted the irate man, spitting his words at the son of his most hated rival. Harry levelled the eyes that were so very much like his mother's at Snape, switched the lightsaber off, and attached it once again to his belt.

"I was instructed by my Master to keep it on my person at all times," Harry adamantly stated. "Any discussions on this will have to include Master Kendet."

"Stop calling him 'Master!'" spit out Professor Snape, shocking everyone present. "He is not your Master, nor should he be allowed to even step foot in this castle again!"

"That will do, Severus," said a calm voice from the door. Everyone turned to find Headmaster Dumbledore standing there. He entered the bathroom and walked over to Ron and Hermione. "I think, perhaps, it would be best if these two were to report to the hospital wing so Madam Pomfrey can ensure they are uninjured. The rest of us should continue this discussion in my office." He gave Professor Snape a significant look. "Calmly." With a snort, Professor Snape swept out of the girl's bathroom, his robes billowing behind him.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said to Dumbledore. "I'm sorry to have disturbed the Halloween feast."

"Are you all right, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. "Perhaps you should visit the hospital wing as well."

"I'm not injured, Headmaster," Harry answered. "I would like to request, however, that Master Kendet be present in your office during this discussion. He must be made aware of these events."

"I will notify him at once," Dumbledore agreed. "However, if a student encountered a mountain troll and I allowed him to go anywhere but the hospital wing… Well, I don't think a troll would compare at all to how angry Madam Pomfrey would be with me for letting that happen," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. They all left the bathroom and began walking towards the hospital wing. "I will escort you to the hospital wing, and we can wait to have our meeting until Mr Kendet can arrive here."

"Master Kendet, if you please," corrected Harry. "I know that it's not normal here to call someone Master, but I am a Jedi."

"Very well," Dumbledore agreed. "I admit to a great deal of curiosity on this point," the Headmaster said. "What does the title of Master mean to the Jedi?"

"Master is the highest rank a Jedi can normally obtain, except for the leader of the Order itself, who is addressed as Grand Master," Harry explained as they slowly walked the hall towards the hospital wing. "It is bestowed by the Council on Jedi Knights who have demonstrated that they have mastered at least one aspect of the Force." Harry and Dumbledore discussed the ranks of the Jedi Order until they reached the Hospital Wing. There, the Headmaster left Harry in the hands of Madam Pomfrey while he went to his office to send an owl to Toma Kendet. Dumbledore had observed the altercation between Professor Snape and young Harry and knew he would have to find some sort of compromise here. Knowing how his potions master was likely to respond, Dumbledore thought he'd rather fight the troll.

* * *

Hermione was having a very rough day. Even though she was easily the most intelligent girl in not only her year but in several of the years ahead of her as well, she was still very insecure. She had never made friends easily and had precious few people she could call friends in her life. She had always stood out, with her intelligence and love for learning, setting her apart from her peers. When she received her Hogwarts letter, and a visit from Professor McGonagall proved magic was real, she thought things might change. She believed the fact that she was magical explained why she was so different from everyone else she knew. Hermione was hoping that Hogwarts would prove to be a turning point for her, allowing her to finally be around others like her.

Reality was brought back to her like having a cold glass of ice water thrown in her face. It was no different here, she found. She still stood out from the other children. She still was alone. The only exception to this was Harry Potter, who seemed to like her. She was quite afraid that he was just polite, though, and secretly he wished she would just go away. Today had been the worst day yet. First, she had to endure watching Ron completely ignore all instructions in Charms. Then, when she tried to help him, it came out all wrong. She didn't intend to nag, but whenever she tried to help someone, it came out like she was trying to prove she was superior. Immediately after class, her greatest fear was realized. Ron told Harry that she was a nightmare, that it was no wonder she had no friends. She just wanted to go home. She had never skipped a class before in her life, but she just couldn't stand being around anyone. She wanted the earth to swallow her up.

Reflecting on the event later, she was astounded at the speed with which everything had occurred. One moment she was crying in the bathroom, at a sink about wash her face, the next moment a giant, twelve-foot troll peered into the room, growling and slobbering at her. One second before it showed up if given a choice between life and death, she was not sure which way she would have chosen. One second later, she could have volunteered for a suicide hotline. She chose life! And then Harry had shown up. Like a knight rescuing a princess in the fairy tales she used to read as a child, he showed up to battle the beast. He even had a sword. It was a laser sword, so the analogy to the fairy tales only went so far, but she had to admit the thing was effective. In one day, she had gone from not knowing if she would ever make a friend to being totally smitten with Harry Potter.

In the hospital wing, she and Ron were examined by Madam Pomfrey. She only had scratches, while Ron was completely unscathed. The matron healed Hermione's minor injuries in about a second, told them she wanted them to rest for one hour, and then would be allowed to go back to their dormitories. As soon as the nurse left them alone, Ron apologized to Hermione. As it turns out, she was not the only insecure Gryffindor first year. Ron told her how he had all these older brothers who were all very brilliant, and he was afraid he would never be as good as any of them.

Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall then entered, delivering Harry to be examined by Madam Pomfrey. After she declared him unharmed but wanting Harry to rest the same as the others, Dumbledore waved his wand and conjured a table filled with food. They had missed the Halloween feast, after all, and were quite famished. Informing Harry that he wanted to see him in his office at 9 o'clock the next morning, he took his leave of them. Professor McGonagall awarded Gryffindor House ten points apiece for the Ron and Harry and then left as well. Left alone, the three youngsters then exchanged stories and smiles as they talked and ate for the remainder of the hour. They left the hospital wing, making their way back to their dormitory. Hermione finally had some friends, including the one who had started this mess to begin with. After all, you can't risk your life fighting a twelve-foot mountain troll without becoming friends with each other.


	7. Chapter 7

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. Of course, for Star Wars, I could leave everyone hanging for an unreasonable amount of time before I update the story, but... Well, I did._

* * *

Toma Kendet had spent the last few months acquainting himself with the world of his Padawan's birth. His time on Earth was quite limited when he picked up Harry, and if he were going to live here for any length of time, he would need to be able to blend in. He was not encouraged by what he found. There were social barriers which fragmented the citizens of this world. There was a great divide between the magical and non-magical communities. This gulf was so vast that the majority of muggles, as the magical wizards and witches called those who were born without the ability to commune with the Force, didn't even believe magic was real. On the other hand, the muggles had leapt forward with technology and science to the point where they had no difficulties existing as a society without the magicals, who were being left behind. Investigating both the non-magical and magical communities that lived so close to each other but never communicated, it was clear that the magicals were, for the most part, vastly ignorant about their own world.

He remembered Professor McGonagall's shock at learning her species had visited the moon decades before. Magicals essentially ignored the muggles, as well as any Muggle-borns who tried to explain the muggle world to them. Stories of muggle achievements and technology were either misunderstood or derided on the spot. As such, most Muggle-borns found themselves so discriminated against that they left the magical world in great numbers upon their graduation from Hogwarts. There, they found they were not much better off, being unable to supply documentation of their education, nor had they studied many of the subjects that are required for a technological society. This was an issue that was not going to go away on its own, Toma realized. The Muggle-borns and squibs who were trying to survive in the muggle society were increasingly bitter about the lack of help they received from the magical community that rejected them. The ones who attempted to remain in the magical society were no better off, and their resentment was growing.

Within the magical community itself, prejudice and bigotry were rampant. There was a belief that pervaded the culture that those of magical birth were better than those who were born to muggles. Even magicals who were born to muggles were barely better than muggles themselves in the eyes of the 'pure-bloods', as they called themselves. Worse still, this belief was especially present in the upper levels of the magical government. This led to a lack of employment opportunities, equal housing, equal pay, and a disregard of fundamental human rights that that was the leading cause of the exodus out of the magical community by those who could not prove their lineage was pure.

It was appalling to the Jedi Master that his Padawan would have to exist within this system, and briefly contemplated what would happen if he just yanked the young Padawan back to Coruscant. Unbidden, but hardly unexpected, his conscience acquired the voice of Yoda, who sounded in his head. "Only from within, can change be permanently achieved." The Jedi Grandmaster, of course, was not present. Toma, however, had heard many of the green Jedi Master's aphorisms over the years and could predict the course of action that would be directed.

Harry kept him informed of his progress at Hogwarts and was using his owl instead of his communicator. This was both so that Harry would fit in better at Hogwarts, and to give the owl something to do. Harry had named the owl Hedwig and was quite fond of her. He had moved out of the Three Broomsticks, as he found it impossible to maintain a low profile there. Harry, it seemed, was quite famous in the magical community, and he was constantly bombarded with questions any time he stuck his nose out of his door. The clientele of the Hog's Head were not as respectable, but they also kept to themselves. He had found that this was a universal concept. The less respectable the establishment, the less people minded your business, mostly because they didn't want you minding theirs. He rented a room above the bar and slowly obtained and carefully maintained a reputation as an eccentric. He spent his time watching and listening, but rarely interacting with the shoppers and shopkeepers in Hogsmeade.

He also made some exploratory journeys to Diagon Alley (without the presence of Professor Snape,) and muggle London. His experiences, while troubling in the abstract, were otherwise non-eventful, until he received three communications. One was from Harry, (who had used his communicator instead of Hedwig,) and another from Professor McGonagall. They detailed the incident with the troll, and the deputy headmistress requested his presence at a meeting in Dumbledore's office the next morning. The final communication was routed to him through R8 from the Jedi Council. It was just as well he had a meeting the following day anyway, as Dumbledore would have to be informed of the changes the council had just ordered. He doubted very much that the Headmaster would like them.

* * *

Professor Severus Snape was angry. Not many people would be able to tell the difference by observing him, though. He was not an easy man to take by surprise, but with Harry Potter, the surprises kept on coming. His disappearance, his unexpected return, the manner of that return, his mysterious guardian, all of it combined to set the Potter boy apart. It conspired to make him special.

Snape did not want Harry Potter to be seen as special, because Harry Potter was not special. The sight of the flying machines that had apparently brought his nemesis's son back to the wizarding world had shaken him badly at first. He was not, however, convinced that this Kendet character had really taken the Potter boy to another world, and the thought of an owl making an interstellar journey was ludicrous. They were clearly frauds, and if Potter's performance thus far with magic was any indication, the boy was little more than a squib, as well.

His attempts to open the Headmaster's eyes to this were, thus far, unsuccessful. This time he would have to listen, though, Snape thought to himself as he stalked through the hallways of the dungeons on his way to Dumbledore's office for the meeting. Having a night to sleep on his frustrations had not had a positive effect on the man. His robes swirled about him as he ascended up stairwells to the ninth floor. His face darkened. Dumbledore would have to listen.

* * *

Toma Kendet stood in front of the Headmaster's desk with his Padawan at his side. Professor Snape was perched upon the tall stool, his arms folded as he scowled at everyone. Professor McGonagall asked Toma and Harry to sit, but they simply declined the invitation and stood before the large desk with their hands clasped behind their backs. While she would have preferred to sit, the Transfiguration professor also stood beside them, feeling the need to stand with her student. She unintentionally adopted their parade rest pose and looked to Dumbledore to begin the meeting.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, gazing at the Jedi Master and Harry Potter for a few moments, debating with himself on how to begin. The boy was an enigma, Dumbledore thought. A child of two worlds, he was born to Earth but raised on this 'Coruscant'. Harry was a wizard of this world and a Jedi of that world. The Headmaster of Hogwarts had followed the young boy's movements and progress far more extensively than he had ever done with any other student before. Harry's exercise sessions on the grounds were no secret to Dumbledore. The existence of the glowing sword the young Jedi used to such great effect on the troll was also known to him, but not its capabilities. He had thought it was merely a tool used for acrobatic exercises, as that is the only way he had yet to see it used. Clearly, there were still more things he needed to know about these Jedi.

"Mr Kendet," began the Headmaster. "As I trust you have been informed, there was an incident last night involving several students, including Harry, and a mountain troll." Toma nodded his head in acknowledgement. "During this incident, Harry used a device unknown to us that he calls a 'lightsaber' to kill the troll." At this, Harry spoke up.

"I tried to reason with it first, Master," he told Toma. "It wouldn't listen. I'm sorry I failed." Toma knew from experience how much it bothered Harry when he thought he failed any aspect of a mission. McGonagall wore a puzzled expression at this admission from Harry.

"What do you mean failed, Mr Potter?" she asked. "While I don't condone violence, I don't see that you had, at that time, any other choice." Harry looked at his new teacher and explained.

"Violence is always the last choice, Professor," Harry said. "The Jedi way is to negotiate, to find common ground. The acceptable outcome would be both sides agreeing to a resolution and departing without incident."

"That is correct, Harry," Toma confirmed. "However, in this case, I agree with Professor McGonagall. You had tried to reason with the troll, but reason was not to be found. Had you disengaged without further action, you would have abandoned the young girl to the troll. You are expected to attempt dialogue and negotiation as you have been taught, as these are the paths of peace. There are, however, times when those paths are blocked due to the nature or inclination of the beings involved. In other words, while I expect you to appreciate all life, I do not expect you to come to dinner at the Sarlacc's call." Harry nodded and looked much relieved at this. While McGonagall and Dumbledore looked slightly confused at the reference to a 'Sarlacc,' even they understood the message. Snape, on the other hand, was not impressed with the apparent praise Potter was receiving.

"Headmaster," the potions master exclaimed, "there is an extremely specific list of items which students may bring to school. Glowing swords is most definitely not on that list."

"That is true," replied Dumbledore. "However, the absence of an item does not necessarily warrant its exclusion."

"It is a deadly weapon, and should be forbidden!" insisted Professor Snape.

"The wand every student carries can also be deadly," the Headmaster replied. "It is only when used irresponsibly that it becomes a problem." He turned back to Toma and Harry. "I would like to know more about this device, however, before I make any decision on whether it should remain in the school or be removed. What are its capabilities, why is it so important for Harry to keep it, and most pressing, why Harry did not turn it over when a Hogwarts professor instructed him to do so?"

"Harry was following instructions from me when he did not turn his lightsaber over to Professor Snape," Toma answered. "He was and remains under instruction to keep it with him at all times. As a Jedi, he has been taught that his lightsaber is his life. This incident only reinforces this doctrine. Had he not had his lightsaber with him, all three students could easily have died."

"They wouldn't have been in danger at all if they were not out of bounds!" yelled Professor Snape. His face was red at the audacity of the strange man to contradict Dumbledore so brazenly. Toma turned to face Snape. His calm demeanour in the face of Snape's rage made a striking contrast.

"What course of action would you have approved of, Professor?" the Jedi Master asked.

"As soon as they realized the danger, they should have found a teacher," answered Snape. "They are first-year students. They should not be taking on trolls!"

"And what of the girl?" asked Toma. "The danger to her was imminent, and any delay would have likely been fatal. I don't see that they had any other choice." Snape had no ready answer for that. He wasn't the sort to give up easily, however.

"You still haven't answered the Headmaster's questions about the capabilities of this device. It clearly poses a danger to this school and the students, and I insist it be removed!" Snape yelled.

"Removal of Harry's lightsaber is certainly a possibility," responded Toma. Professor Snape was startled at what he thought was a rather sudden, unexpected victory. "In that instance, however, removal of Harry Potter would also be required." Dumbledore's stomach sank at the possibility of losing Harry again. Looking at Severus, he saw the gleeful look of hope that the man could not hide at the thought of Harry being permanently removed from Hogwarts. This was a line of argument he knew he had to stop immediately.

"Remember your oath, Severus," he said. Severus's eyes went wide at this remark. He looked at Dumbledore and knew the Headmaster would do anything to keep Harry Potter in Hogwarts. He took several deep breaths to get his temper under control and compose himself.

"As you wish," he said, his voice now tightly controlled and betraying no emotion. "If you will excuse me, I have lessons to prepare."

"Of course, Severus," replied Dumbledore. Professor Snape then left the Headmaster's office without looking at Toma or Harry. After the door to his office had closed, Professor Dumbledore returned his attention to Toma Kendet. "Now, Master Kendet," he said to the Jedi, "I don't want this to turn into a clash of ultimatums, as neither of us has anything to gain by fighting each other." Toma turned to Harry.

"Please wait outside, Harry," he instructed his Padawan. "I wish to speak to Headmaster Dumbledore alone."

"Yes, Master Toma," Harry said, bowing to his teacher. He bowed to Dumbledore as well. "May the Force be with you," he said, as he left the Headmaster's office and closed the door behind him. Toma turned back to Dumbledore, who was surprised at the instant obedience of the young child. In his experience, a first-year student would have protested at least a little at being dismissed in the middle of a meeting like this, or at least expressed some disappointment. The Jedi Master then sat in one of the chairs before the desk, which McGonagall appreciated, as it allowed her to sit as well.

"As Harry has explained," said Toma, "fighting is the last resort for a Jedi. This incident does, however, bring up a concern I have regarding Harry's training."

"What concern do you have?" asked Dumbledore. "I'm sure that whatever it is, it can be accommodated." He did now allow himself to show the dismay he felt at the threat to remove Harry. He knew better than to try and argue that Toma was not really Harry's guardian or to try any legal tricks to remove Harry from Toma's care. He hadn't lived as long as he had by ignoring common sense.

"Harry is approaching a critical time in the training of a Jedi. His abilities in the Force are increasing, and the temptation to use the Force in less responsible situations will begin to present itself time and time again. Normally, a padawan would be in constant contact with his master during this crucial time, who would help to guide the young Jedi on the right path. Harry, however, is now going to be separated from me for long periods of time. Please don't misunderstand, I trust Harry to do what he feels is right at all times, just as I always have. It's only his judgement on what is actually right that could come into question." Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"I think I understand," the Headmaster said. "There is a similar phase that wizards go through around this time as well, especially by Muggle-borns. Never having done magic before, or even seen it, they begin to try to solve every problem with magic, thus increasing the chances of an accident."

"Exactly," agreed Toma. "I would like to have some of Harry's trainers from the Jedi temple come here to Hogwarts. He will train as a wizard during the week, and as a Jedi on the weekends." The Headmaster considered this.

"I have some concerns," Dumbledore said. "It seems that Harry is, at some point, going to have to make an exceptionally difficult decision as to which of these two worlds he exists in that he will remain in. I am guessing that the Jedi would like to have the both of you return at some point. On the other hand, this is the world of his birth, and I believe we have the right to ask him to remain."

"I have also considered this," Toma responded, "and know that this will have the unfortunate consequence of making that decision even harder for him. I am afraid that it is a requirement, however, for Harry to continue his Jedi training if he is to also remain at Hogwarts." Dumbledore frowned at this, and it was clear he was not happy at this continued threat to remove Harry Potter. "Please don't misunderstand me," Toma continued, "I am not trying to force your hand. This is an order from the Jedi Council that was transmitted to me only yesterday. I have no choice in this matter, nor does Harry. The council is concerned that the interruption in his training could lead to Harry falling to the dark side. The compromise to allow Harry to remain and train on the weekends was not universally accepted." Dumbledore was not happy with this situation but felt that his hands were, in this case, tied. His best option, he felt, was to allow the additional Jedi training, and try to make sure he learned as much of his home culture as was possible. He was also aware that this meant he would have to find some way to reign in Severus. That might actually be the more challenging battle, but he was sure he could find some common ground between them somewhere.

"Very well," the Headmaster agreed. "I will allow the additional training, and will even provide quarters at Hogwarts for you and the additional staff from your temple." _After all_ , thought Albus Dumbledore, _in for a Knut, in for a Galleon_. With that, the meeting ended. Toma bowed to Dumbledore, offering the standard Jedi "May the Force be with you," and left the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore sat at his desk and chose a lemon drop from the jar on his desk. Thinking better of it, in light of how the additional Jedi shortly to arrive at Hogwarts would likely be received from a particular professor, he chose two.


	8. Chapter 8

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. Of course, for Harry Potter, that means I could have the darkest wizard in history care so much for the children of the wizarding world's education that he always times his attacks for the end of the school year, but all dark wizards are polite like that._

* * *

The day after the "Dumbledore Summit," as Hermione called it, was a Saturday. Toma noted how pleased Harry was to attend his first Jedi training session since he'd arrived at Hogwarts. Hermione and Neville had both asked Harry if they could also participate, and Toma had agreed to a limited extent. Jedi doctrine forbade him from teaching them the ways of the Force due to their age, but he felt certain meditation techniques and physical training could benefit anyone. This would also allow him to observe Harry around his peers. Harry's reports often included these two classmates, though Hermione was mentioned to a much greater extent. Toma was well aware that Harry would be entering a phase in his development where his interest in the opposite sex would be ignited. Toma could see that interest already being kindled with the young Hermione Granger, and she certainly seemed interested in Harry. The young witch had a great deal of curiosity and intelligence and was already engaging Harry in conversations and activities daily.

If Harry were not a Jedi, this would not be a problem. For the Jedi, however, attachment was forbidden. Toma was aware that if Harry were to remain in the Wizarding world, he would likely be participating in the social rituals of his home planet. He would have to meditate on this in the days to come, and perhaps enlist the help of Yoda. After all, it was the Jedi Grandmaster whose insight insisted that Harry had to return to Earth. Toma could only hope that the powerful Master Jedi could provide guidance for Harry to follow to help him navigate his conflicting paths.

Hermione and Neville both enjoyed their introduction to Jedi meditation techniques. Hermione was hoping the sessions would provide her with a greater understanding of Harry, as well as an advantage to her studies. Neville was hoping for greater self-confidence, and perhaps a way to boost his magic. They were both very impressed with Harry's abilities with the Force and were somewhat disappointed that they wouldn't be taught how to use it, but both of them were very loyal to Harry and decided to stick with it regardless.

Harry had an extremely unsettling vision during his meditation exercises. A shadowy figure with red eyes was pursuing him. He did not discuss this vision with Master Toma yet, however. He didn't want to worry Hermione and Neville. That evening, however, he brought the vision up as he visited Toma in the quarters the Headmaster had promised.

"Force visions are often very subjective," he explained to his Padawan. "That you perceive this creature with red eyes may be significant, or it may be that your mind is providing red eyes to the figure to portray evil intent or some other interpretation that has meaning for you. Continue to meditate nightly, and inform me if there are any significant changes in the details of the vision, or if they stop entirely."

* * *

The next Monday, Harry stayed behind after charms class to discuss his progress with Professor Flitwick. He was still finding it far harder to use magic than the Force. At first, the charms professor was simply recommending more practice, but that wasn't really helping Harry.

"It just feels wrong, somehow," the young Jedi said. "It feels like I'm trying to funnel the Force through a narrow pipe instead of simply letting it flow through me."

"Can you, perhaps, demonstrate the difference you are feeling, Mr Potter?" Professor Flitwick asked.

"Well, using _Wingardium Leviosa_ , for instance, I can barely lift a book," Harry explained. He took out his wand, gave a swish and flick, said the incantation, and raised a textbook from Flitwick's desk. The book rose but Hovered unsteadily in the air. Harry clearly had to concentrate on holding it in the air. Finally, Harry lowered his wand and allowed the book to descend back to the desk. Harry put his wand back in its holster. "However," Harry continued, "if I use the Force..."

Harry extended his hand towards the charms professor's desk, his fingers slightly spread, and felt the familiar flow of the Force as it answered his request. Flitwick's eyes widened as his desk gracefully rose into the air and hung four feet off of the floor.

"... it feels so much more natural to me," Harry finished. Flitwick was stunned. Harry had not used his wand, had said no incantation, and was not even concentrating on maintaining the levitation as the desk hung there. Harry held the levitation for several minutes as the charms professor examined the desk. He asked Harry to return it and watched as the desk gently lowered to rest in its original position.

"I wonder if the problem is how you're lumping magic and this 'Force' of yours into one bucket," the tiny professor suggested.

"What do you mean, sir?" asked Harry.

"Well," explained Flitwick, "while I'm not entirely certain what charm you used to levitate my desk, I am sure of one thing. It was not _Wingardium Leviosa_. I think we are, perhaps, incorrect in assuming that magic and the Force are one and the same."

"So," Harry mused out loud, "by trying to funnel the Force through my wand, I'm not really using magic?"

"Well, actually you probably are," said Flitwick, "but you're not using it efficiently. When you levitated the textbook using _Wingardium Leviosa_ , I clearly identified it as the correct charm. However, by focusing on the Force instead of magic, I don't believe you're getting the full impact with your spells as you would if you tried to separate the two concepts. Determination is quite important in magic, after all, as is intent and visualization. I might be wrong, but why don't you give it a try? Separate the Force and magic in your mind into two concepts, and then try _Wingardium Leviosa_ again, clearly defining it as magic in your mind."

For the rest of his free period, Harry stayed with Professor Flitwick as they went through various exercises. Harry found, much to his surprise, that changing his perspective had much the same effect as switching gears would have on a shifter. It wasn't an instantaneous fix, but he could already see that his spellwork was greatly improved by his change in focus. Harry was feeling much better about his progress as a wizard. He very much appreciated the patience and understanding of the charms professor, who ended the session with 20 well-earned points for Gryffindor and a few stories of Harry's mother and her time at Hogwarts. Lily Potter was a great favourite of the Charms professor, and it warmed his heart to share what he could of her to her son.

* * *

That evening at dinner, rumours were running through the Great Hall of a loud fight at the end of classes. Neither Headmaster Dumbledore nor Professor Quirrell was present for dinner, and the rumour mill was running at full speed with ideas. The only consistent elements to the rapidly escalating theories were that the fight was between Dumbledore and Quirrell. Harry even dropped his Jedi reserve and had some fun with the rest of Gryffindor coming up with more and more wild stories to explain the fight, and why the professors were absent.

No good thing can exist, of course, without it being balanced by the bad. Draco Malfoy represented this concept with interest. The young Slytherin had not ceased in his attempts to get Harry in trouble or to catch him alone in the hallways. Harry, however, seemed to be almost able to predict the future about traps, and always managed to avoid them. Draco finally came close to success when he managed to trick Neville Longbottom. He convinced Neville that Peeves the Poltergeist had flooded the hallway to the Gryffindor dormitories close to curfew that evening. Neville, believing the story, warned his Gryffindor friends to the alleged water hazard, and suggested they go the long way around. Since Neville believed Draco's warning and there was no actual physical threat, this had the unfortunate effect of bypassing the second sense that informed Harry of impending dangers.

This found Harry, Hermione, and Neville climbing a staircase when it began to move on them. The stairs ended up leading them to a hallway none of them had seen before. Due to the detour, they were now out past curfew. With a sinking feeling, they also realized they were now in the forbidden corridor. Neville panicked at hearing Argus Filch, the caretaker, coming up behind them, and tried to get through a locked door to hide. Hermione, not thinking clearly, was about to unlock the door using the _Alohamora_ spell she had recently learned when Harry stopped her.

"No, Hermione!" he said, putting his hand on her arm and pulling her away from the door. The Force was causing tingles of warning about the danger behind that door. "We didn't ask to come to this corridor. Even if we get in trouble for being here, though, we'll get in far more trouble if we're caught breaking into locked rooms. Besides, there's something behind that door. Something dangerous," he cautioned. Hermione nodded and put away her wand. Neville was hyperventilating as Filch rounded the corner and caught sight of them.

"Ha!" the old caretaker called out, his breath wheezing as he ran forward. "Caught you! You'll all be comin' with me, now," he growled, grabbing Neville by the ear.

The trio of Gryffindors was led (or dragged, in Neville's case,) to Professor McGonagall's office. She was not impressed to see them out after curfew, and even less so when Filch told her, with glee, how he found them in the forbidden corridor.

"What do you have to say for yourselves?" she demanded, her stern voice leaving no doubt on how she felt about the situation. Hermione stared at her feet in shame, sure they were going to be expelled. Neville was still in shock from being dragged by his ear. Harry, on the other hand, responded with true Jedi confidence.

"We did not intend to be in that corridor, Professor," he answered. "We were on our way to Gryffindor Tower from the library when the staircase moved with us on it. It led us to that corridor, and by the time we realized where we were, Mr Filch had already found us." McGonagall was at least somewhat mollified that they didn't seem to be trying to poke around where they had no business, but she wasn't going to give up that easily.

"Why were you going that way anyway, Mr Potter?" she asked, focusing him as the leader of the wayward students. "It certainly isn't the most direct route to the Gryffindor dormitories from the library."

"We were going to go straight there, but Neville warned us about the blocked hallway, so we had to go the long way around," Harry responded.

"Blocked hallway?" McGonagall inquired, now confused. "What do you mean? I was just in that corridor not ten minutes ago, and I assure you the path is quite clear."

Neville closed his eyes. He now knew that Malfoy had lied to him.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he spoke up. "Malfoy told me the hallway had been flooded by Peeves. I believed him!"

"I see," answered McGonagall, now in a far gentler and understanding tone. "I think it's clear what has happened here. There will be no punishment for being out after curfew, this time." Filch looked like she had just cancelled Christmas. "I will speak with Professor Snape about Mr Malfoy," McGonagall said. "Please return to your dormitory."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said. The trio turned to leave.

"Oh, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall called after him.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry answered.

"Do be more careful in the future," she cautioned. "I was lenient about being out after curfew this time. I will not be as understanding if there are additional incidents."

"I understand, Professor," Harry acknowledged. "We'll be more careful."

"Goodnight, then," she said.

Harry, Hermione and Neville walked quickly back to Gryffindor Tower. In the Common Room, they discussed the near-miss. They were very thankful that they had listened to Harry's advice. Who knew what would have happened if they'd opened that door?

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, all of the professors were at their places at the head table except for Professor Quirrell, who was nowhere to be seen. When all the students who were going to show up had done so, the Headmaster stood and addressed the students.

"Good morning," he said. "As you have no doubt noticed, Professor Quirrell is not here for breakfast this morning. I am sorry to tell you that Defence Against the Dark Arts will be cancelled for the next week. Professor Quirrell has left us to pursue other adventures." The student population looked somewhat shocked at this. It was a commonly held belief that the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching position was cursed, and no Professor had lasted longer than a single school year at the post since before anyone could remember. The professor usually lasted until the end of the school year, though. Apparently, Quirrell wasn't strong enough to even last three months. "Until a replacement professor can be found, I encourage you to use the period you would normally have Defense in as a study period to either catch up on work in your other classes or to read the Defense textbook to prepare for your next instructor. Thank you." With that, the Headmaster sat back down and ate his breakfast with an unusually pensive look on his face.

* * *

Harry was doing much better in most of his classes with his new focus on magic being separate from the Force. Potions, however, was continuing to be an issue. Professor Snape had not stopped overtly attacking Harry during classes. If anything, the meeting with the Jedi had escalated matters. Harry was subjected to his potions being vanished for no reason, zero's being given for any excuse, or no excuse at all, and almost constant verbal abuse during every potions session.

The other Gryffindors did not have it much better. Professor Snape gave no feedback other than to call his students names. He explained none of the reasons why ingredients had to be added in a particular order. He answered no questions, except to deduct points for not understanding the concept on their own. Unless you were a Slytherin, of course, and then you got points for just about anything and could do no wrong.

Harry felt that if you disregarded his actual grades in the class, he was actually doing reasonably well by reading the lesson ahead of time. It seemed, however, that only he and Hermione did this. Everyone else in Gryffindor seemed to be averse to studying. Ron, of course, was the quintessential Gryffindor in that regard. His frequent pleas to copy off of Hermione and Harry were quite annoying, and the friendship between the Jedi and the red-headed wizard was becoming strained again. Hermione, who had caught Ron copying her notes when he thought she wasn't looking, would barely speak to Ron anymore.

* * *

One week after "The Dumbledore Summit," Severus Snape was summoned to the Headmaster's office after dinner.

"You wished to see me, Headmaster?" the potions professor asked.

"Yes, Severus," Dumbledore answered. "Please, sit down. Would you care for a lemon drop?" he asked Snape.

Snape, like always, shook his head no. He noticed that Dumbledore seemed to sit a bit deeper in his chair than he usually did. He looked over the Headmaster with a practised eye and saw that his customarily twinkling eyes were dull and downcast. The ordinarily, energetic man seemed to be rather lacklustre and worn out.

"Are you feeling well, Headmaster?" Snape asked. "You look quite tired."

"I am tired, Severus," Dumbledore answered. "It has been quite a long week."

"Quite," Snape agreed.

The Headmaster had not yet confided to any of his staff what had actually transpired between himself and Professor Quirrell the previous Monday. If Severus were to believe the rumour mill, anything from Quirinus being possessed by a demon to a full-on Dumbledore vs Quirrell lover's quarrel had led to the stuttering professors departure. Snape was used to having the Headmaster's full confidence, so he took the opportunity to bring the subject up.

"What actually happened between you and Quirrell, Albus?" he asked.

"I am not a young man, Severus," Dumbledore sighed. "Recent events have brought to my attention the fact that I seem to have spread myself a bit too thin. I have three positions which are each considered a full-time job. The Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock to the Wizengamot. I get by through delegating lesser duties to deputies, but it is now obvious to me that this cannot continue. Too much damage has been done. Most of it is damage I could have easily remedied had I merely been paying attention. As of Monday morning, I will be stepping down from all but the Headmaster position."

"I do not understand," said Severus, confused. "What damage has been done?"

"Do you know how many career paths require a N.E.W.T. in potions?" Dumbledore asked, his voice growing sharp. Snape's eyes went a bit wide at this.

"Quite a few," he answered.

"Yes, quite a few," agreed Dumbledore. "For healers and mediwitches, potions is a critical skill. For Aurors and Unspeakables, a potions N.E.W.T. is a requirement, as well. Cursebreakers and Warders often need to brew their own potions to perform their tasks. In fact, most of the professions in the wizarding world that actually provides a service to the public requires a potions N.E.W.T. to obtain an apprenticeship in that field," the Headmaster continued.

Snape knew that this conversation was not going to end with a reward for him for providing an excellent education in these critical skills. It did not happen often, but when the Headmaster began a lecture like this, it was usually because he was working himself up to make it crystal clear exactly how badly you had failed. The potions professor stayed silent.

"How many students are in your N.E.W.T. classes this year?" Dumbledore asked.

"Six for sixth-year, four for seventh," Snape answered, curtly.

"Yes," agreed Dumbledore. "I believe your sixth-year class has four Slytherins and two Ravenclaws, correct?" he asked. Snape nodded. "And your seventh-year class has only Slytherins?" Snape, seeing where this was going, attempted to defend himself.

"It is not my fault if all of the dunderheads go to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff!" the Potions Master exclaimed.

"Severus," Dumbledore admonished, "You are placing far too much value on the stereotypical attributes of the houses, as you always have. After all, was it not you who I once caught telling that young Ravenclaw that 'Wit without measure may be man's greatest treasure, but knowledge without purpose is stupidly worthless?'" Dumbledore asked.

Severus Snape was mortified. He could not believe the Headmaster was bringing childhood taunts up in this discussion!

"That was a very long time ago, Headmaster," he said. "I was only in third-year!"

Dumbledore moved in for the kill.

"And how long ago was it when you said 'A zero again, Potter? You truly are as worthless as your talentless father?'"

Snape's breathing stopped. His eyes narrowed as he realized the trap he had blundered into. He had said that this morning. That was what this was about. The Potter brat had squealed! He had no answer. Dumbledore continued his humiliation.

"In case you were wondering, young Mr Potter has not told me of your treatment of him. He does not know that I know."

Severus Snape closed his eyes.

"You hid in my classroom," he said.

It was not an accusation, just a statement.

"I hid in all of them," Dumbledore answered. "Your behaviour in last week's meeting with Toma Kendet was so disturbing to me that I felt the need to get back in touch with how this school is being administered. Therefore, every class that was held this week, I audited. Every teacher was evaluated," Dumbledore stated.

"A time-turner?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "A marvellous device. So useful for getting a lot done at once, but I am ready for quite the nap. Of course," he continued, "this led to poor Quirrell's death."

Snape took in a sharp breath of air in a hiss.

"He's dead?" he inquired.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "It seems that Professor Quirrell was playing host to Voldemort under that turban of his. On the day I audited his classes, I waited until all of his students had left before leaving myself. On my way out, however, I overheard him speaking to Voldemort, and was quite shocked to hear Voldemort speaking back."

Snape felt somewhat faint. Dumbledore had always said the Dark Lord would return, and this was the first real evidence that it was actually true.

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore continued, "the realization that Voldemort had actually penetrated the castle itself led me to give myself away. I was detected, and Quirrell began throwing curses around the room. It was only a matter of time before he found me or encountered a student, so I was forced to stun him."

"He died from a stunner?" Snape asked in disbelief.

"No," Dumbledore explained.

Snape was feeling a bit more comfortable now that the conversation was steered away from his performance, but he wasn't able to be a double agent by being dumb. He knew they would return to the topic.

"Once Voldemort knew that his cover was blown, he had no further use for poor Quirrell. He abandoned him, leaving as a wraith of vapour. Quirrell had been, most unfortunately, feeding Voldemort off of his own magical core, and the sudden departure proved too much for him. He died."

They sat in silence for a moment, considering the implications of this.

"Then what of the stone?" Snape asked.

"Ah," replied Dumbledore. "Now we are getting ahead of ourselves. I have not yet decided what to do about the stone, but I'm afraid we must return to the topic of how lessons are being taught in your classes."

Snape sighed. They were already back to it.

"On top of that," Dumbledore lamented, "I now have a core subject with no teacher."

"I would be more than happy to take over the Defense classes, Headmaster," Snape volunteered, his eyes filled with hope.

"I do not think," Dumbledore replied, "that rewarding you with your dream post is quite how I should handle a performance problem in your class."

Snape's heart fell.

"I will be taking over the Defense classes for the rest of the year myself," Dumbledore explained. The Headmaster's voice grew stern, and there was no hint of the grandfatherly old man Dumbledore usually affected.

"I must say, Severus, that I am quite disappointed in your behaviour. If it were not for the fact that leaving this school would leave your life in forfeit, violating at least two of the conflicting vows you have taken, you would be on your way out of the castle tonight. This constant harassment of Mr Potter will stop, permanently. That is the first condition of your continued employment. The second is that you will begin following the already established guidelines for point rewarding and removals. All points that you assign or remove will now be approved by me before they are tallied. Furthermore, you will actually begin teaching your classes more than just the ingredient list! You will submit lesson plans to me on a weekly basis, which must be approved by Professor McGonagall or me prior to your classes start. They should be familiar to you, it is how Professor Slughorn taught you potions, after all. I will audit some of your classes, you will not know which, to ensure that you are following these guidelines. Any deviation from these conditions without my prior approval will result in your immediate dismissal. If I find you harassing any of my students again, you will be turned over to the Aurors."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, then he continued in a calmer voice.

"Severus, I must be completely clear on this, especially considering the personal consequences to you if I am forced to terminate your employment. You must let go of the past. Harry is not his father. He has no memory of him. Treating Harry as if he were his father, makes your behaviour no better than how James used to treat you."

Severus's cheeks were red, and he was humiliated. He had not experienced a dressing down like this since his father was still alive. Bringing up his Vows also caused him to feel a great deal of shame. Not only had he Vowed to Voldemort to remain in Hogwarts to spy on Dumbledore, but he had Vowed to Dumbledore to be a spy for the light. Both of these duties necessitated his presence at Hogwarts. His oath to Lily was not binding, at least not magically, but that made it all the more potent. He had promised her tombstone that he would protect her son. Harry had only been at the school for a few short months, and already he was behaving so badly to the boy that he was in danger of losing his job and his life.

"How am I to explain my sudden change of behaviour?" Snape asked his Headmaster. "It will surely be noticed and commented upon."

"I will guide you on the one, narrow path you now have available to you," explained Dumbledore, "that path will satisfy all of your vows, including your non-binding one to Lily. Your previous behaviour is well known, of course, and we will not try to hide it. When you are asked by your old friends about your new zeal for teaching fairly, you will answer truthfully that you were reprimanded and threatened with termination. You may also explain about your oath to Voldemort. They will certainly understand the lengths you will go to obey his orders, of course. You have my permission to call me as many names as you can think of. Staying in the castle and reporting on their activities to me will satisfy your Vow to me, and your new teaching methods and attitude will satisfy your oath to Lily."

He nodded at Dumbledore, fighting to hold tears back as the thoughts of Lily threatened to overcome him.

"If you will excuse me, Headmaster," Snape said, his voice croaking slightly. "I will need to get started on those lesson plans if they are to be ready for Monday morning."

"Of course, Severus," Dumbledore told him. "Please take a lemon drop," he offered, holding the candy dish out to his potions master. "I always find that they make me feel better after a hard day."

For once, Severus took one. It wasn't bad. Oddly enough, he felt himself calm slightly as the sweet and sour flavours coursed through his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he left the Headmaster's office and returned to his dungeon.


	9. Chapter 9

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. (I think I'm breaking this promise now.) Of course, for Star Wars, I could have Obi-Wan Kenobi, arguably one of the greatest Jedi, be so absent-minded that he completely forgot that R2-D2 existed. Thus in Episode 4 he totally ignored the fact that he knew this droid. (Yes, I know this plot hole was due solely because no one would have accepted the prequels_ _without_ _R2, but still.)_

_We're getting to the point that my standard disclaimer above may no longer be accurate, as I'm having characters do things J.K. never had them do._

* * *

Hermione and Neville attended what they had started to call 'Jedi Class' on both days of the weekend. They had spent a half-hour each night for the past week in their beds after lights out in meditation, going over each event that had occurred in the day. The goal, as Toma had explained, was to eventually be able to sort their memories into different categories and store them in their mind like a library. This would help them to memorize facts quickly and, with a lot of practice, recall those facts with perfect clarity at will. Hermione had read of this concept before, which some muggles had incorporated into a mental exercise called a Mind Palace. The idea was to envision your mind as a construct. Organizing memories like objects in a room allowed you to retrieve the memories at will. Hermione's construct was a library. She even had a card catalogue to help her organize her thoughts. She had a bit of a head start over Neville on this, as she had already investigated the theory before starting at Hogwarts. She decided not to try it, though, as her memory was good enough without it in her opinion. She preferred to spend her time reading, anyway. Nothing motivated her like a goal, however, and she wasn't about to let Harry and Neville learn this without her. Toma found that her laser-sharp focus on completing goals regardless of concepts like rest and sometimes even nutrition was going to be the most challenging part about teaching Hermione.

Neville had decided his construct would be an arboretum, with his memories catalogued like plants in a greenhouse. He had already noticed an enormous improvement to his confidence and courage that he knew was due to his friendship with Harry and Hermione. Neville was doing far better in his classes than he had expected to when he first arrived at Hogwarts. He was quite looking forward to the look of stunned disbelief he knew would adorn his Uncle Algie's face come Christmas break when Neville told his family how well he was doing.

Harry was already reasonably proficient at the Jedi version of this mental exercise, and he was helping Toma to teach the technique to his two friends. It was similar enough to the Mind Palace technique that Hermione had described that it was easily modified to accommodate it. Toma was pleased with this, as Harry needed to learn how to teach. His Padawan was very good at teaching, Toma noticed, and it helped that both of the students were highly motivated to learn. At the end of their Saturday lesson, Toma suggested that Hermione and Neville begin to run with Harry three mornings a week. Both agreed, but neither had ever really considered physical fitness before.

Nonetheless, they were both determined to learn as much as the Jedi Master was willing to teach them. Toma began to wonder what Master Yoda would think of this. It had not taken long for Hermione and Neville to turn advice about meditation techniques into an informal Jedi class. He was somewhat bemused that Hermione had even insisted on being assigned homework as if to legitimize the validity of the class. Toma knew the longer he allowed this to continue, the less influence he would have on the situation, but he was reluctant to just end it. The Force seemed to be guiding him to train these two friends of his Padawan. If not in the actual usage of the Force, then at least in methods they could use to be of the most assistance to Harry as they could be. The code forbade him from taking either of them as an additional Padawan. Still, nothing prohibited him from teaching them meditation or physical activities not influenced or augmented by the Force. Time alone would tell if this was a good idea or bad, but he was convinced it was the will of the Force.

* * *

Professor Snape turned in the first set of his lesson plans to Headmaster Dumbledore on Sunday morning. They really hadn't been that hard to put together, since the format of them was not specified by the headmaster. He knew that they needed to include actual instruction though, and was quite well aware that any attempts to provide a simple token showing of compliance would not be taken well. He had, therefore, actually put his best effort forward. The headmaster approved them, with only one addition that he insisted be included on the next instance of one particular class. Severus knew that Dumbledore would insist on this. He had actually considered putting it in on his own, but in the end, he just could not swallow that much pride at once. He would do it, but he wouldn't volunteer it. He accepted the addition without comment. Dumbledore, knowing how difficult this was for the former death eater had wisely decided to not push the issue but was pleased when his addition was accepted without argument.

Albus Dumbledore was pleased his Potions professor was accepting the stipulations he had to impose on him. The headmaster hated having to threaten anyone to get them to do the right thing and was famous for how many second chances he was willing to dish out to get people on the right path. Severus had indeed gone out of his way this time to show he was willing to change. Dumbledore could only hope Professor Snape could sustain this new attitude. If Severus could maintain it, Potions might make a drastic turnaround from one of the most hated classes to one of the most loved. He disillusioned himself and made his way down to the dungeons. He wouldn't miss this class for all the gold in Gringotts.

* * *

The first of what would become known as the 'New Potions Class' was an eye-opener for all involved. First-year Gryffindors and Slytherins alike were honestly concerned that the potions master might be possessed. In their mind, nothing less could explain the vastly different format to the lesson, or the drastic change in the presentation of it. Class began with a lecture that really should have taken place on day one.

"Good morning, class," began Professor Snape. "Things are going to be a bit different starting from today, so please pay attention. As I am sure you are aware, potion-making can be a highly volatile activity. Safety being of the utmost importance, I must insist on a complete understanding of the safety rules when brewing potions in this class."

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, eyes wide. Harry had braced himself for another round of verbal attacks and was now wary, but hopeful that today would be different.

"While I have the utmost faith in Madam Pomfrey's ability to cure nearly any injury," Snape continued, "the best cure will always be prevention. Goggles, a supply of which is available to lend to any who lack them, are available in the student equipment cupboard. These should be worn at all times when you are handling ingredients or working on potions to protect your eyes. The loaner goggles are not the highest of quality but will work perfectly well for the time being. It has been noticed that goggles no longer appear on the materials list sent with your letters. This oversight will be corrected for future lists being sent out. I highly recommend purchasing your own goggles during your next break home. If you wish, you may also approach me after class, and I will provide an owl order form to the apothecary, which contains a selection of equipment available for purchase without having to visit the store. Please ask me if you require a recommendation on any equipment. I would like all of you to carefully read the parchment that Mr Goyle is about to hand out."

As he said this last bit, he used his wand to float a stack of parchments from his desk and landed them in front of Gregory Goyle. Goyle, a large first-year whose main achievement thus far was remembering which side of Malfoy he was supposed to protect, sat gaping at them like a fish out of water.

"This handout," lectured Snape, "contains an overview of the potion we are about to brew together, and includes an ingredient list, safety information regarding potential interactions between these ingredients, a description of the method of brewing, and the detailed recipe. If you have any questions, please raise your hand and wait for me to acknowledge you. Please read this handout in its entirety before you begin your potion. I want you to understand every step before you begin the first. Many potions are ruined due to ingredients being added in the incorrect order. Even if you add them in the proper sequence, disaster can strike if you do not pay attention to the timing of the additions, or if the direction of stirring is ignored, or if the incorrect instrument is used to stir your potion. Understanding the directions before starting is the best way to prevent fumbling about during critically timed sections of the recipe. I expect you to perform this for every potion we brew in this class, and it will remain an excellent idea for any potions you brew in your lives outside of this class. I want to see all of you making this your habit."

Snape paused to glare at Goyle, who was still staring at the stack of parchments on his desk. Goyle gulped and got busy handing them out to all of the Slytherins. Professor Snape turned his attention back to the class.

"Experimentation on the recipe is absolutely forbidden at this point in your education," warned the professor. "As you progress in your education and gain a greater understanding of the art, you may very well develop ideas on how a recipe or procedure can be improved. When and if this occurs, please inform me privately after class. If your idea is viable, we will schedule a time to test it together. After testing, you will then write me a recommendation on whether the original method or the new idea is better. Credit for the idea, if original, will be yours. Please do not expect that you will be setting the potions world on fire with innovation at this point in your careers, however. In fact, I would very much prefer that you NOT set the world on fire, as doing so will count negatively on your grade."

The students reeled at this. A joke? It was the first time any of them had heard any teacher outside of Dumbledore tell a joke, and it was Snape who broke the trend? Nervous laughter broke out at the deadpan delivery of Snape's first joke and was quickly silenced as the professor moved on.

"I know that this is a departure from how we usually work in this class," explained Snape, "and I am sorry for any confusion this causes. I trust we can all be flexible enough for this necessary change."

Goyle, who had finished handing out the parchments to his housemates, headed back to his desk. He stopped when he noticed Professor Snape staring at him.

"I believe you may have missed a few students, Mr Goyle," Snape said sardonically.

Goyle, scowling at having to pass the material out to Gryffindors, nonetheless crossed the room and began handing out the parchments to the other half of the class.

As the class settled down to read their instructions, the Potions Master walked over to Harry.

"Mr Potter," he said, making sure his voice was loud enough to be overheard by every member of the class as per his orders from the headmaster, "I believe that I owe you an apology. My behaviour to you thus far has been… unprofessional."

Harry's eyebrows shot up at this unexpected development. He had been wondering what had prompted the sudden change in the professor's behaviour and hoped this would signal an end to the hostilities in this class. Still, a public apology was beyond his wildest expectations.

"I am afraid," Snape continued, somewhat haltingly, and in a quieter tone of voice, "that I have allowed a... grudge I held over your father to spill over to you. This has corrupted the trust you should be able to have in your professor, and for that, I apologize."

Harry knew that the professor did not like him, and from the teacher's taunts and insults was well aware that the dislike was rooted in the man's issues with his father. Harry was wondering precisely what his father had done that could justify carrying the grudge over a generation. That was not, however, something he wanted to discuss in front of a class half full of very inquisitive Gryffindors, though, not to mention all of the insanely irritated Slytherins. He chose his words carefully, knowing how difficult this must be for the potions teacher, and not wanting to push the man back into his previous behaviour.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said. "I appreciate and accept your apology, and I hope we can begin again. I've heard it said many times that you are among the finest potion masters of this age, and I'm looking forward to learning from you. I'm sorry to hear that you and my father had difficulties. I do not know what these difficulties entailed, but if you care to meet in private, I would like to discuss it with you. I'm sure we can find common ground and come to mutual respect. I will, of course, understand if you wish to just let it go and I will honour your wishes on this subject."

Hermione was floored. Gone was the fire-eyed, invincible warrior she usually saw in Harry. In his place was a confident diplomat, who was deferring without retreating, complementing without grovelling, and offering respect to the man who spewed vitriol at every previous encounter.

Professor Snape was no less shocked. This lesson was the most difficult he had ever had to give. It would have been easy for him if this were how he started teaching, but a decade of just putting instructions on the board and insulting Gryffindors had laid their grooves in his behaviours. It was challenging to break out of those ruts, and he had expended a great deal of emotional energy in not allowing that effort to show on his face or in his voice. If he had needed any proof whatsoever that Harry was nothing like his father, this was it. This was not even Lily. James would have eaten this up, lording it over Snape and demanding more and more until his target snapped into a furious response guaranteed to get the Slytherin into trouble. Lily would have been livid at his treatment of her son and would have lectured for hours, or just dropped the friendship and ignored him. Respect, and even offering him the chance to drop the matter entirely, was beyond his experience. For the first time, he gave actual credence to the idea that Harry had been off with these Jedi for the past decade. He recalled that the description Kendet have given to the Jedi had included 'diplomat,' and it seemed that Harry had learned the lesson well. He became aware that he was staring at Harry and took a deep breath.

"I think, Mr Potter," he responded, "that meeting would be a very good idea. Perhaps we can schedule it for one week from today?"

"That would be fine with me, Professor," Harry said.

Snape nodded and mentally prepared himself to continue the lesson.

"In my office next Monday at 4:30 in the afternoon, then," the potions master suggested.

He stepped away to answer some questions from some Slytherins at the other end of the room. Snape prayed the questions had something, anything to do with potions. He was NOT counting on it.

* * *

The week that followed was without question the best week Harry and his friends had yet had at Hogwarts. . Many of the Slytherins were furious at Professor Snape's new lesson format. Still, even many of them agreed that they learned more about insulting their inferiors than they did about potions from the previous format. Harry was officially named the Hero of the Gryffindor Common Room. He tried to tell the Weasley twins that he had done nothing to prompt the change in Professor Snape, but quite a few Gryffindor ears had heard the apology and spread the word that Harry had gone toe to toe with Snape and had won.

The next Saturday was a crisp, early November day that promised to be beautiful, if somewhat on the cold side. The first Quidditch game of the season was to be played, and Harry was looking forward to it. The Gryffindors had a sixth year as the seeker, the position that most confused Harry. Ron Weasley had ensured early on that Harry was brought up to speed on the basic structure of the game, but Harry just couldn't see the point of the seeker. The position ensured there was no consistency to the length of the game, and almost always clinched the win, rendering the efforts of all the other positions moot. Harry was hoping that seeing his first game might clear up some of the confusion about it.

"I'm not sure why," Harry said to Hermione as they went down to breakfast, "but the castle has an almost familiar feeling to it all of a sudden."

"Well, we have been here some time," she replied. She wasn't sure what Harry meant by 'familiar.'. "Perhaps it's just because we've finally had a really good week?" She suggested.

"Maybe," Harry mused. "It suddenly feels like the Jedi temple does after I return from a mission." He shook his head and gave up trying to figure it out. "I'm sure you're right," he said as they entered the Great Hall. They took their seats and started to eat as the other students began their own breakfasts. The conversations around them were all about the upcoming quidditch game. Harry kept looking around as if he were looking for someone.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Neville, noticing Harry's restlessness.

"I'm not sure," Harry answered. "It's almost as if…" Harry trailed off mid-sentence, then his eyes opened wide! He whipped his head to peer at the Hufflepuff table and drew in a sharp intake of breath at what he saw there. Hermione and Neville, seeing their friend react in alarm, looked in the same direction to find themselves looking at a heavily muscled, dark-cloaked figure with his hood down so far you could not see his face. As Harry stood, the stranger looked up, revealing what the students of Hogwarts all simultaneously thought of as a nightmare. His eyes were a piercing, nearly glowing blue, but it was his face that caused a lot of the short, stifled screams as the students reacted to the intruder. His face was a dull yellow colour, but black tattoos crisscrossed his features. The creature lifted his hands and brought his hood down, triggering another scream as this revealed a crown of horns growing from his bald head! Any Hufflepuffs near him that hadn't already abandoned breakfast joined their classmates in moving away from what looked to them to be a demon.

Dumbledore had not yet made an appearance in the Great Hall, but Severus Snape had. He was in his usual place at the head table in front of the Slytherins when the commotion drew his attention. Seeing this intruder, he drew his wand to defend the students. Suddenly, a hand was placed on his arm, lowering his wand. He turned to face Toma Kendet. Kendet was looking him in the eye, not panicked about the intruder at all, and just shook his head slowly.

"Do not interfere," the Jedi Master said. "He means no harm."

The creature was staring straight at Harry Potter, who had gotten over his shock.

"Forty two seconds, Potter!" the creature called out. "You owe me forty two seconds!" Hermione, not knowing what this monster was, turned her head to speak to her friend, but kept her eyes on the sinister figure now approaching Harry.

"What does he mean, Harry," she asked. "What forty two seconds?" Harry didn't answer her but bowed to the figure now standing in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Master Amani," Harry said. I did feel your presence before that, but…"

"I do not accept excuses, Potter!" the Zabrak shouted at the Padawan. "I am here to see how much of my teaching you have thrown away." He swept his intensely blue eyes over the boy in front of him, scowling at his Hogwarts robes. "What are you wearing? You are not fit to fight in that costume! Change into appropriate attire, put your lightsaber in training mode, and be in the courtyard in five minutes!" Amani ordered.

"Yes, Master," Harry called out. He was already moving.

"Make that four minutes and eighteen seconds!" Master Amani called after the sprinting Padawan.

No one at Hogwarts had yet witnessed Harry when he was running flat out. Hermione and Neville were both well aware that Harry was faster than they were during their morning runs, but Harry was obviously holding back so He wouldn't outpace his friends. Harry was also not using the Force to augment his speed when running around the lake. With a burst of speed that none of the students watching could quite believe, Harry was out of sight in a moment. Toma left Snape at the head table and approached Hermione and Neville.

"Whatever you see, understand that it is only training, and Harry is in no real danger," he told the children. "Whatever happens, you must not participate or interfere." He made sure he had their agreement, then turned to explain what was happening to the professors who were advancing on him, questions being thrown left and right. While he was dealing with that, Master Amani departed the Great Hall to await his student in the courtyard.

* * *

Harry practically flew to his dormitory. Running through the Common Room, he passed Ron Weasley. Ron, who was having a bit of a lie-in on a Saturday morning, was now dressed and about to go down for breakfast.

"What's the rush?" the redhead asked, but Harry didn't stop to answer. Ron shook his head in confusion. "It's always something weird with him," he grumbled to himself. He climbed through the portrait and headed to the stairwell.

Harry stripped off his school robes and threw on his Jedi duelling robes. He was dressed in less than a minute. On his way back down the stairs to the Common Room, he pulled out his lightsaber. Pressing the butt of the weapon, which pushed in like a button, he held the top portion steady. Twisting the grip, he rotated the bottom half of the handle which revealed a hidden compartment with several switches and lights. With only a few minutes left till his deadline expired, he knew he was going to be late. Harry carefully changed one switch from up to down and confirmed that one of the red lights had turned amber, indicating his lightsaber was now in training mode. He twisted the handle back to its closed position and listened for it to click to it's locked position.

Harry ran from his dormitory, desperately trying to think of a way to surprise his lightsaber trainer. Passing Ron again in the hallway as he made his way to the stairwell, Harry did not turn to descend to the entrance hall seven floors below. An idea had come to him on how he might achieve surprise. Harry went straight ahead to the glass clock face that looked out over the courtyard. After all, early was far better than late in the Zabrak lightsaber trainer's eyes, and Master Amani counted arriving with style far more than any other trainer Harry had ever worked with.

Ronald Weasley was starting to get annoyed with Harry Potter. All he wanted to do was get some breakfast, and Harry kept running past him, not even saying a word! Ron was quite sure this was some strange prank when the unthinkable occurred. Harry reached the enormous clock face that overlooked the courtyard, and without hesitating, leapt headfirst into the glass and smashed through it! Ron's mouth hung open in horror. He had just witnessed Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, the boy who single-handedly vanquished both You-Know-Who and Snape, just casually throwing himself to his death! Ron ran forward to the clock and looked down through the hole Harry had just created, expecting to see his classmate's body on the castle entrance steps many feet below. That's not what he saw.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted out, shocked beyond the endurance of polite language.


	10. Chapter 10

_I own neither Harry_ _Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they_ _wouldn't have them do themselves. Perhaps like having an authority_ _figure object to Mad-Eye_ _Moody's use of a magical eye_ _that can see through clothes in a school with underage girls._

* * *

As soon as Harry had dashed out and the creature he had called Master Amani had left the Great Hall, a mass of students flooded out and took various routes to the courtyard. A spectacle was about to occur, and no one wanted to miss it. Four minutes later, almost every student that had been in the Great Hall had lined the edge of the courtyard or were peering through the support gaps on the top of the bridge. It was without question the fastest organization of the student body that any Professor had ever seen. Everyone was waiting for Harry Potter to arrive, and the time limit the strange creature had given was approaching. Many thought it was unfair that the man/creature that had called Harry out had perched himself on top of the stone frame to the main castle doors. He stood there like a gargoyle, waiting in ambush for Harry to emerge.

Master Amani was waiting for his student to arrive. He had insisted on being the first to test how much Harry Potter had let himself forget. He was not intending on being easy on his student, as he felt that coddling only produced weak and needy drains of resources. The fire of criticism may burn hot, but it left in its wake only that which was strong enough to withstand it.

He had always taught his students to do whatever they could to obtain the high ground. Fighting a duel when you had the high ground significantly increased the odds of winning. Your opponent on lower ground would have to dangerously overextend his reach to attack, which was nearly always a duel ending mistake. The lower opponent was also having to fight uphill, which increased their fatigue and the chance of making a mistake. Amani was planning on driving that point home in this lesson, which was why he had jumped to the frame of the doors Harry Potter would have to run through to get to the courtyard. This lesson would be ended swiftly and would teach Potter that to be predictable was to hand your enemy the advantage.

Neville and Hermione were at the front of a group of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws that had clustered in one corner of the courtyard. Both were chafing at the promise they had given to Master Toma that they not interfere. Neither of them thought that Harry would willingly allow this Amani character to order him around unless he truly meant no harm, though, so they waited. Hermione vowed to jinx him in the back if he hurt Harry.

Many of the Slytherin students, still livid over Harry's perceived leashing of Professor Snape, were grinning and gleeful at what looked to be a Harry Hunt in the making. Chief among those who were wishing for Potter to be humiliated was Draco Malfoy. He was burning to see his nemesis get punished. He still couldn't understand how Filch had caught Potter in the forbidden corridor after curfew, but it was Draco that had been given detention for it. He had written to his father about the injustice but had not yet heard back.

Malfoy, making sure that Granger could hear him, was gloating to Crabbe and Goyle that Potter had chickened out and must be hiding in his dormitory when he heard the smashing of glass from Far above. As Draco watched Potter fly to battle, he could not help feeling both angered at how much Potter was showing off and unwillingly impressed by how awesome it looked.

Harry Potter burst through the glass of the clock face. A moment of doubt swept through him that he quickly banished in his mind as gravity asserted itself. His brain working in overdrive, he calculated a quick estimate and came up with about fifty meters between his exit point and the ground below. In the three seconds or so he had until he reached the ground, he needed to find Master Amani, get into an attack position that would allow him to survive the drop, and cushion his fall.

He had barely cleared the glass when he found the horn headed Jedi Master. He also recognized that if he had exited the castle in the usual and expected way, then he would have been in a much more inferior position to defend himself. Using the Force to alter his trajectory so he could press his attack, Harry ignited his lightsaber. He knew that his small element of surprise wouldn't last long.

 _No matter_ , he thought. _I'm not likely to win anyway, might as well put on a show._ In the last second of his flight, he pivoted so his feet faced down. He let out a downwards push with the Force to break his fall. Positioned for his attack, he swung his lightsaber down to begin the duel!

Hearing the shattering glass drew her eyes to the sky. Hermione felt her heart jump into her throat at the sight of a figure diving headfirst to the ground! She couldn't identify him at this distance by sight, but she knew well enough it was her best friend.

Shards of glass were sparkling in the sunlight around him as he fell. With a flash, a green beam of light emerged from the cylinder in his hand. He seemed to alter somehow the direction of his fall to curve towards his target. Neville clutched at Hermione's arm, and she let out a high-pitched scream calling Harry's name as the young Jedi reached his destination.

Master Amani was impressed. It wasn't often that a student could get the drop on him. Literally, in this case. Perhaps he wouldn't need to reinforce the lesson of predictability after all, he mused, watching as his student streaked down to him like a missile. He lit his lightsaber and was able to bring the blue shaft of plasma energy up to block the downward attack, but it cost him his footing on the door frame.

As he dropped the twenty feet to the ground, he turned off his weapon and rolled to absorb the impact. He was pleased to see that Potter had also secured his lightsaber and rolled in the opposite direction. This allowed Potter to gain distance and regroup. As they finished their rolls and reignited their weapons, he saw that due to the increased momentum of Potter's much higher fall, the student he was supposed to be dominating had managed to roll up a small incline to gain the higher ground down here, as well.

Satisfied with Potter's unexpected strategy and with how successful it proved to be, he decided to test the Padawan's defensive tactics. With a Force enhanced leap, he somersaulted over Potter, their blades clashing with a flash of light and the snapping sound of the plasma discharge as the two blades met. Having gained even ground, a back and forth ensued, with Amani and his student trading offensive and defensive stances with every stroke of their blades.

Professor Flitwick, who had competed on the professional duelling circuit before accepting his teaching position here at Hogwarts, was professionally interested in how this duel would progress. He was particularly impressed with Harry's rather dramatic entrance and vowed to shield the young lad from as much flak as he could. Harry may not be in his house, but he was much pleased with his progress in the last few weeks and wished to encourage what he thought of as the 'Lily' side of his student's personality.

He had heard about this blade of light that Harry had fought the troll with, and was glad he was getting a chance to see it in action. As a half-goblin, he had trained in blades and was quite impressed with the skills both combatants displayed.

Harry was getting tired. He had already worked out his morning just before breakfast, and since it wasn't one of the days Hermione and Neville joined him, it was a full workout. He also hadn't been in a lightsaber training duel in months.

The adrenaline that had rushed into his system during his drop from the clock face had provided him with a reserve of strength that was rapidly being eaten into as Master Amani probed his defences. Several minutes into the duel, Harry had abandoned offensive moves. His was giving up yards of ground and being backed into harder to defend areas.

The duel had taken them to the middle of the courtyard, where a large flower garden sat in a raised stone planter. Harry's last reserves of strength ran out Just as he noticed what was on the garden wall right next to his trainer.

 _It's_ _going to_ _end in the next few seconds anyway,_ he thought. _Might as well give magic a try._

Master Amani was satisfied with Potter's progress. There were still many improvements to be made that he noted in his student's performance, but there were always improvements to be found. His own performance had been less than perfect.

He was about to stop testing Potter and would end the duel the next time his student left an opening to exploit. Potter chose that moment to do the unpredictable again. The Padawan performed a backflip and landed on the stone wall of a flower garden which took him out of reach. Holding his lightsaber in his non-dominant hand, Potter brought out a stick. Amani had been briefed on how the locals used the Force in different ways, including the use of a wand, but he had not yet seen it in action. Potter pointed his wand at a barrel that stood on the garden wall next to Amani. The young Jedi said something that sounded like 'Defendo.' Without warning, the barrel fell apart, dumping its contents both into the garden and onto the ground where Amani stood! The barrel stored rainwater and enough had been spilt to cover Amani's boots with several inches of water. Before the deluge could drain away, Potter pointed his wand at Amani's feet.

" _Glacius_!" Potter yelled, and Amani felt something extremely cold pass in front of him. Almost losing his balance, he found that his feet were no longer standing in water, but trapped in ice! The tide had turned. Amani could either free his feet or defend himself from his student. The lack of mobility meant he could no longer turn as Potter slipped behind him, though, and he was unable to prevent the contact of Potter's lightsaber on his shoulder! The duel had ended. Harry Potter had won.

The courtyard erupted in cheers! Nearly every Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw joined every single Gryffindor in chanting Harry's name. Even some Slytherins joined in, unable to contain themselves.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin quidditch teams were near each other in other in the crowd. In a rare, civil moment they exchanged glances that communicated the same sentiment: _How are we supposed to top this?_ Excited conversations were breaking out around the courtyard as the duel was broken down and reviewed play by play. A sixth year Hufflepuff girl was being told off by Professor Sprout for inquiring if Harry was still single.

Ron Weasley had watched the duel from above, looking down through the hole Harry had made. He missed Harry's descent, but Harry had clearly made to the ground unharmed. By the time Ron had made to the broken glass, the duel was underway. Green and blue shafts of light flashed one way and the other almost faster than Ron could follow. It was difficult to catch all the moves of the fight from this height, but Ron saw more than enough by the end of it to make one thing clear. There was no way he'd be getting on Harry's wrong side, no matter how many weird things the Jedi did. He was pretty jealous at the chants of ' _Harry! Harry!_ ' that he heard after Harry won the fight, but he didn't begrudge Harry his victory. Ron returned to the stairs and headed down. Breakfast was still waiting, after all.

Minerva McGonagall was marching up the walkway from the main doors as the Jedi trainer, and Harry Potter extinguished their lightsabers. Professor Flitwick was beside her and noticed the older Jedi was still immobilized. He brought his wand out and vanished the ice to free Master Amani. The Jedi Master thanked the charms Professor, then waited to see how these wizards would handle the situation. McGonagall turned on the panting Harry Potter like a cat surprising a mouse.

"Mr Potter," the Deputy Headmistress asked, "Why is it always you? What on Earth were you thinking? Jumping from the clock tower? You could have killed yourself!" she scolded.

"I'm sorry... for the damage... to the clock face... Professor," Harry said in between deep gulps of air. He sat down on the stone wall and started getting his breathing under control. "If someone can teach me how... I will repair it... or pay to have it repaired."

"But why?" asked Professor McGonagall. "Why did you do it?"

"it was the only way I could get here on time," Harry answered. McGonagall very nearly laughed out loud at that. It took an act of will to prevent the smile from showing on her face. Still, she knew her duty and as much as she privately enjoyed the display, had to uphold the rules.

"I appreciate punctuality possibly more than most, Mr Potter," replied Professor McGonagall, "but that does not excuse you from causing damage to the castle. I am sorry, but I will have to assign you detention."

"If you don't mind, Minerva, he can do that detention with me," said Professor Flitwick, "He can help me repair the glass that he broke. It would mean missing the quidditch game, I'm afraid, but he can always catch the next one."

"Thank you, Professor Flitwick," McGonagall agreed. "That's settled, then."

She turned back to Harry, now unable to keep a small smile from betraying how she truly felt.

"Oh, and Mr Potter," she said, "that will also be fifty points to Gryffindor for displaying every value Godric ever lauded in less than ten minutes. Please don't do it again." Harry smiled but was somewhat confused.

"To be honest, Professor," he said to his head of house, "I thought you'd be angrier than this."

"There's no need, Mr Potter," McGonagall answered, as she turned back to the castle. "I do not doubt that Miss Granger has that well in hand."

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, looking around for his best friend. She was not hard to spot. Students who had left the edges of the courtyard to celebrate found themselves in between Harry and Hermione. A line of them were diving to one side or the other to either make way for what was either a pretty, bushy-haired bantha or Hermione Granger. Either way, Harry was going to have some explaining to do.

* * *

Headmaster Dumbledore could only assume that Harry's decision to plummet into the duel from one hundred seventy feet above was an example of the reckless tendency that Toma Kendet had mentioned in their last meeting. While Dumbledore could appreciate the skill that went into the duel, he worried about the impact it would likely have on his students. Harry had been trained in some techniques that allowed him to pull off such a stunt. The Headmaster would have to take steps to ensure some of the more impressionable students did not consider the act to be something to emulate.

He had not prevented Toma Kendet from allowing Mr Longbottom and Miss Granger from attending the 'Jedi Class' as it was limited to only those two students and it wasn't an activity in which many others wished to participate. He had audited the informal class, though, to be sure his students weren't being placed in danger by the Jedi. He was also aware of the attraction that seemed to be acting on Harry and Hermione like low powered magnets, which also worked to further his plans for the young wizard. He needed Harry to remain in the wizarding world, and if Mr Potter were romantically involved with Miss Granger that could only help to steer Harry to the wizard side of the Wizard/Jedi equation. Albus was certainly not going to throw the two together, or even actively encourage them in any way. Still, he was not opposed to helping something that appeared to be occurring naturally anyway to take its course. The Headmaster's ability to manipulate events from behind the scenes was one of his talents, and he prided himself on his skill in persuasion.

Dumbledore's long-term goal of the defeat of Voldemort was unchanged, but his short term goals had been subjected to rewrite after rewrite in recent months, and this duel looked like it might force another alteration. Dumbledore foresaw that the 'Jedi Class' would have quite a few more applicants next week. He did not want to allow more than a handful of students to be involved with the visitors until he knew a great deal more about them. While he was still ashamed that he had left Harry on his Aunt and Uncle's doorstep, he had not forgotten that the Jedi response was to take the child off-planet.

Albus didn't think he was going to be able to prevent additional students from participating without also denying Hermione and Neville access to the Jedi. Thinking of an idea, he made a mental note to ask Toma if he would consider teaching the top students in Hogwarts. This would guarantee Hermione's inclusion, and with her driving Neville to focus, Mr Longbottom should not have any problem retaining his spot either. It would mean that the Jedi would influence a few additional students, but it was the only way he could think of to get everything he wanted without sacrificing any of his players.

Albus had watched the duel with a small, green Jedi representative from a balcony that overlooked the courtyard. Yoda gave, at first glance, the appearance of an incredibly old house elf. He was introduced as the head of the Jedi Order. Albus was impressed with the wisdom of the Grandmaster and began considering ways he could entice the Jedi to join the wizarding community in the fight against Voldemort. The small, green Jedi had made it clear that he was here to help Harry in whatever way he could but stressed that Harry had a good deal of training left to complete before the young man would be ready to lead the fight. Albus agreed wholeheartedly.


	11. Chapter 11

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. Of course, for Star Wars, that means I could have the good, kind, compassionate Jedi leave Anakin's mother in slavery instead of just freeing her. What's that Watto, mind tricks don't work on you? I wonder if a lightsaber would? Oh, I can have both of them? You're so kind._

* * *

After a lot of explaining, Harry was finally able to appease Hermione with a hug and a promise to never jump off of a school tower again without an excellent reason, or at the very least, a parachute. He then participated in a post-duel discussion where Master Amani and Master Kendet went over with Harry both the areas where he excelled as well as opportunities for improvement.

"You managed to surprise me twice, Potter," Master Amani growled. "That's not an easy thing to do even once. I hope that doesn't mean you're going to start getting complacent on me."

"No, Master Amani," replied Harry. "I will do all that I can achieve my goals."

"That was an interesting tactic, using that magic of yours," Master Amani continued. "It seemed a bit clumsy, though. There was plenty of time for me to move out of the water before you froze it, or before the water reached my feet. We're going to add using magic to your drills. I want to get your speed up and your motions fluid."

"I understand," Harry said.

"I'm not trying to take away from what you accomplished here today," Amani said. "You beat me fair."

"Thank you, Master," said Harry. "I know that there is always room for improvement, and I would like to increase the speed in which I can cast during a duel. I'd also like to see if I can find a way to cast with either hand. It was very awkward to have to change my lightsaber to my non-dominant hand in the middle of a duel. I only tried it because you were about to win anyway, I figured I had nothing to lose."

"Let that be a lesson to the both of us, then," Amani said. "Never underestimate those who have nothing to lose. If they have nothing to lose, they have no reason to hold anything back."

Amani was very pleased with Harry Potter. Some students took offence when they were given suggestions after a victory, but Potter had always understood the reason behind it. Toma Kendet was also pleased with his Padawan.

"You are going to receive a great deal of praise from those who only appreciate what you did because it looks impressive," said Master Kendet. "Be cautious that you do not escalate your responses to events to make your actions look better to please or impress them. Only use those actions that help you with your goals."

"Yes, Master," Harry acknowledged.

"You did very well today, my Padawan," praised Toma. "I don't think I could have done it better myself."

"Thank you, Master Kendet," said Harry, smiling. "I couldn't have done any of it without your training."

"You had best go with Professor Flitwick now, Harry," Toma said. "He is waiting." Harry bowed to both of the Jedi Masters and started to navigate the sea of students between him and the main doors. Toma smiled at his Padawan's attempt to deflect praise from himself. While there was nothing wrong with taking a modest amount of pride in your accomplishments, excessive pride should be avoided.

Finally extracting himself from another horde of congratulatory Gryffindors, Harry returned to the castle with Professor Flitwick to repair the glass of the clock face. The rest of the school moved off to the quidditch pitch to watch the game. Ron had, of course, protested when he discovered that Harry would not be able to attend the first game.

"How did you alter the direction of your fall, Mr Potter?" Professor Flitwick asked. He was most interested in that, as it wasn't generally considered possible to use a levitation charm on yourself, not having anything to 'push' against. Harry explained that he had used the Force to push in the direction he wanted to go.

"It's much the same as a force enhanced jump," Harry said, "except it was just more of a sustained thrust instead of a burst of energy. I had never tried it before, but it worked pretty well."

"You tried this for the first time after jumping through a window?" Flitwick asked, shocked at this revelation. "The fall could have killed you! What would you have done if it hadn't worked?"

"Landed in a different spot," answered Harry. With a start, he suddenly understood why people seemed so upset about his jumping. "Oh! What I meant was that it was the first time I've tried changing my lateral speed to alter my destination. I've done free jumps over three times as high as the clock tower before, using the Force to slow down before impact."

"Ahh.." said Flitwick, now understanding. "I see. So there was no real danger, then?"

"Not much," said Harry. "I mean, it's a pretty rigorous physical activity, so there's always some risk of injury. I don't think there was any risk of anything Madam Pomfrey couldn't handle in a moment. Certainly, it's no more dangerous than hanging onto a broomstick and flying around dodging guided cannonballs."

"Very well, then," Flitwick said, taking the point that a potentially much more dangerous activity was currently being cheered on at the quidditch pitch.

They were standing at the bottom of the main stairwell.

"I wonder," said Flitwick, thoughtfully, "Do you think you could try to do the same thing here, but try to 'thrust' up instead of to the side?" Flitwick suggested.

"What," asked Harry, "you mean just... fly up there?"

"Well," said Professor Flitwick, "Yes."

Harry looked up, then put his hands out to either side of him and tried a nice, sustained push with the Force. It took some time and experimentation, but he slowly rose into the air. He was only about twenty feet up when he started to run into a problem. The Sustained Force Thrust, as he decided to call it, took a lot more effort than a single push would cost him. He had hardly used magic at all today, but he had used the Force extensively all morning. It was more than he was used to, and he managed to shift over to land on the second-floor stairs before he completely ran out of energy. Harry decided that he was going to ask Toma if they could work on endurance drills. Considering the excellent idea Professor Flitwick had just given him, they could be very useful.

Harry thought he might be onto something new here, and he wanted to research it a bit himself before telling Master Toma, Master Amani, or Master Yoda about it, yet. It wasn't that he didn't trust the elder Jedi to give him credit, but the thought of being expert in something he could teach the Jedi Masters had a lot of appeal to it. Additionally, he didn't want to go to Master Toma claiming he had discovered some new aspect of the Force only to be told he had just now realised something so fundamental that all Jedi knew it, and they had just assumed he knew it too. Neither Master Toma nor Master Amani had mentioned it during the debriefing after the duel, but they also may not have noticed it. He didn't know how much of the beginning of the duel Toma saw, nor at what point Master Amani looked up. He was perfectly aware that this fear was irrational, but since when did that stop the secretly insecure from being afraid?

Flitwick was most apologetic for asking him to experiment when he was clearly worn out.

"I am sorry, Mr Potter," he said as he hurried up the stairs to where Harry landed. "I should have realised that you were probably getting tired due to your activities this morning. Perhaps we can try some other time. If you need to catch a quick nap, I can show you the glass repair spell tomorrow," the Charms professor suggested.

"I'll be fine using magic," Harry protested, "it's just using the Force I need to rest at a bit. Though if this doesn't take too long, I might accept that offer until everyone gets back from the Quidditch game."

"Splendid," said Flitwick. "It'll just take a moment, let us go on up."

They climbed the steps to the seventh floor, and Professor Flitwick showed Harry the proper wand movement and incantation. It took Harry a few tries to get it right, but Flitwick was pleased with the result. As promised, Professor Flitwick cut Harry's detention short so Harry could catch a nap. Yawning, Flitwick decided a nice, Saturday nap sounded like it would hit the spot for him as well, and went to his quarters to partake in it.

* * *

Weeks had passed, and the Christmas holidays were fast approaching. Draco Malfoy was looking forward to them. He was not enjoying his first year at Hogwarts nearly as much as he should have been. It wasn't going the way it was supposed to go at all. He had planned his grand entrance to the school since before he could even remember. He was supposed to be the Prince of Slytherin. He had even ordered stationary with that header! Father wouldn't let him bring it to school, of course. When he had found the packets of parchment, the elder Malfoy had just said that snakes only emerge to strike, and must otherwise remain hidden. In other words, flaunting is fine, but only after you've earned it.

It just wasn't fair how the teachers favoured Precious Potter and his Mudblood girlfriend. Even Longbottom got preferential treatment! All three of the Gryffindors had outscored Draco on their interim tests. All three of them had even beaten him in potions, the class where he should genuinely have the advantage. The Professor who taught the lessons was Draco's head of house. If that wasn't enough, Draco's family was close, personal friends with the man, for Merlin's sake! Surely he could get a leg up in potions! His family friend wasn't acting very friendly, though. Or, more accurately, he was acting far too friendly, just to the wrong people. He was acting as if he cared for all of his students, instead of just the ones who mattered. It wasn't natural.

It had all come to a head one morning in Potions class. Draco caught that know-it-all Granger helping Longbottom and tried to put a stop to it. At first, he tried telling on them. He smugly told Professor Snape that the Gryffindors were cheating, and explained how Granger was correcting Longbottom's work. Anger and betrayal flashed through him when Snape gave the Gryffindor girl points for teamwork!

After that, all bets were off. All gloves were off, too. When Professor Snape's back was turned, Draco had surreptitiously dropped some porcupine quills into Longbottom's cauldron. The subsequent explosion of nearly completed Wideye potion that doused half the class and sprinkled the rest caused bouts of insomnia for several nights before finally wearing off. That was when Draco had learned the most valuable lesson he had yet been taught: Witches hold grudges that surpass house loyalty.

Daphne Greengrass, who was completely covered in the wakefulness potion, had seen him put the quills into Longbottom's cauldron. She also told Professor Snape. She very nearly declared a blood feud when she discovered the potion had ruined her diary and her transfiguration homework. Daphne, who was sitting at the station next to Longbottom and Granger, had placed her bag in between their tables. Rivers of the potion had cascaded into her bag, soaking everything. Professor Snape had calmed the vindictive witch down, at least, but he had also given Draco detention.

* * *

Severus Snape was in desperate need of a headache solution. During the detention that he had given Draco as a punishment, the Potions Professor was trying to be as patient as he could towards the young Slytherin. His patience was being tested, however, as he found that he had been changed far more than he had expected to be. Teaching changes lives, after all, and you cannot change lives without being changed yourself. This was the ultimate trap Dumbledore had set for him and then placed in the only path Severus had available to him.

Unfortunately, jumping out of a window was not a viable option in this instance. Otherwise, he might be tempted to "pull a Potter," as the school slang now went. Certain events had a way of slipping into the consciousness of the collective mind of the students, and Potters Flight, as it had become known, had quickly been cemented into the status of a school legend. Hence the following statement: "This class is so boring that if it doesn't liven up soon, I'm going to pull a Potter." The alliteration alone ensured this would be a phrase that would endure for millennia.

The new teaching style that Snape had been forced to perform was surprisingly surpassing tolerable and was even approaching enjoyable. He found that he liked teaching, which he never had before. It was honestly surprising to him to see that those who were once lamentable at a task managed to get better at it with practice, encouragement, and positive feedback. He knew that the drastic change was going to eventually have to be explained once his fellow Death Eaters found a good time to contact him. He was anticipating a busy Christmas holiday of making excuses and trying to convince them of the need for him to stay under the radar.

His patience with young Draco could only last for so long, though. He was not so unchanged that he would accept snarky comments from any student for long, even from a Slytherin.

"What happened to you, anyway?" Draco asked angrily. "You used to be so much fun in class. Now you're giving me detention because I put those beneath me in their proper place!"

Professor Snape turned and stared at Draco, his eyes almost burning with rage. Draco obliviously continued to dig the hole he was rapidly trapping himself in.

"It's almost as if you liked that Mudblood girl more than me!" he accused.

Mount Snape erupted. He made no noise, but the temperature in the dungeon classroom seemed to chill by twenty degrees. He moved smoothly and silently towards Draco, his robes billowing behind him. His black eyes glared at the young boy as though the very existence of the youngest Malfoy was abhorrent to the Professor. Draco wisely shut his mouth and backed away from the approaching Professor.

"Do you think I enjoy being civil to those buffoons?" Snape hissed. "Do you think I take pleasure in wasting my time teaching my art to dogs who can barely comprehend the gift I'm being forced to give them?"

Draco retreated till his back was against the dungeon wall as Snape advanced on him. Snape suddenly found an outlet. A way to deflect the blame of the 'New' potions classes from him onto someone else.

"This is your fault, and you dare ask what happened to me?" Snape accused, his face twisted with fury. "None of this would have happened if you could have only shown the tiniest fraction of cunning, even a modicum of subtlety!"

"What do you mean my fault?" squeaked Draco.

"You lured Potter and his little friends to the forbidden corridor after curfew!" Snape spat. "Your lies may have fooled that soft-headed Longbottom, but they were painfully obvious when examined with even the least critical eye, and you left all of the evidence pointing straight back at yourself! If you had even the slightest traits of a true Slytherin, you could have achieved your goals and would never have been caught!"

"How was I supposed to do that?" Draco asked, his voice back into whine mode. "They'll always take Precious Potter's word over mine."

"Make your lie the truth!" thundered Snape. "You claimed the corridor was flooded when it was not. Anyone checking up on your initial claim would know that you lied!"

"So, what do you have had me do, actually flood it?" asked Draco, his tone indicating that he felt this was unreasonable.

"Yes!" confirmed Snape. "If you had only followed through, everyone would have believed that Peeves had performed the deed. Why not? He floods at least five corridors a year, why not this one, too? He always denies it, so no one would believe him if he protested. It probably still wouldn't have gotten Potter in trouble, as there would have been a valid reason for him to take the detour. At the very least, though, you would have put a firewall between yourself and your lie!"

"But what does any of that have to do with how you've been acting in class?" asked Draco.

"Your clumsy attempts to get Potter in trouble is what sparked the investigation that put me within a hair of being tossed out of this castle!" Snape accused, his voice thick with contempt. "If I were you, I would be hoping that your father has no reason to suspect that you put these events into motion. If the Dark Lord finds out that you have jeopardised his sole source of information on Dumbledore…"

Snape left the rest of that thought to Draco's imagination. With pleasure, Snape saw the realisation dawn in Draco's eyes.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Draco. He was now all business. Draco had been taught all of his life that the Dark Lord would return one day. He had been told bedtime stories about the rewards You-Know-Who lavished on his faithful followers. He had also been told tales of horror about what happened to those followers who failed him. Draco would do anything to prevent You-Know-Who from finding out that he had caused the Dark Lord's plans to go awry.

"I highly suggest you leave Potter and his friends alone," Snape said, calming. "Do your work, do it well. Bide your time. Mind your business. Thanks to your fumbling, I must now do the same. It will take time, but we have the time to do this most important of tasks properly. Now go, and do not speak of this to anyone!"

Draco gratefully hurried out of the classroom and ran back to his dormitory.

* * *

"Harry?" asked Hermione during breakfast one morning in late December. It was only two days before Hermione and most of the other students left on holiday. "Do you have any plans for Christmas break?"

"No," Harry answered. "I'm sure I'll stay in the castle though since Master Toma has quarters here now."

Toma and the two other Jedi that had arrived to tutor Harry had taken up residence in an otherwise unused wing of the castle. No students other than Harry yet were allowed access to it, so Harry's classmates called it 'The Jedi Compound.' Harry had researched the traditions of his homeworld before he'd arrived, so he was well aware of what Christmas was. He had already ordered Christmas presents for Hermione and Neville, which were wrapped and waiting in his trunk.

"I've been writing my parents and may have mentioned you a time or two," said Hermione, blushing slightly.

The reality of that statement was that Hermione had told the entire story of the Boy-Who-Lived to her parents the night she purchased her books. She had read to them all about the death of his parents at such a young age, his mysterious disappearance, the subsequent search, and the confidence that existed regardless of the lack of clues that Harry was still alive. Her first letter home was mostly about his odd arrival. Harry featured prominently in all of her letters home since she arrived at school, and her parents were understandably curious about this boy who had secured such a hold on their daughter.

"They asked me to invite you to our house for the holidays if you wanted. They know it's a bit late in asking, but when I told them you'd never been able to celebrate Christmas before. I'm afraid they're determined to give you the entire experience if you willing."

"Thanks Hermione!" Harry said, excited. "That sounds fantastic! I'll ask Master Toma, but I don't think it will be a problem."

"I just found out I'll be staying here," said Ron, who was sitting near them. He seemed very sad about that. "My parents decided to visit my brother Charlie in Romania, so we have to stay here."

It had been a challenging year for Ron Weasley. He had always felt overshadowed by his highly successful brothers, and his performance this year seemed to justify that feeling. Harry, Hermione, and Neville were all in the top of their class, and Ron was near the bottom of the year. If it weren't for the fact that no one was quite sure if Crabbe or Goyle could even read at all, he would be at the bottom.

McGonagall had sent a letter to his parents with his interim grades, and Ron had gotten a howler back! Ron's cheeks still burned red at the humiliation. As if it wasn't bad enough that he was failing, now everyone in Scotland knew about it, too. McGonagall had even apologised to him the day he got it. He got the impression that McGonagall didn't like his Mum, much.

"I'm sorry to hear you'll be away from your parents, Ron," said Harry.

"It's ok," Ron said. "My brothers will be here with me. The twins are always good for a laugh. It could be fun."

"You could use at least some of the time to study," Hermione suggested. She was trying to be careful not to sound bossy, but Hermione had always wanted to help those that she felt needed it most.

"I don't even know where to start," grumbled Ron.

"I'll tell you what," suggested Hermione, "We've no classes after lunch today. Why don't you meet me in the library, and I'll help you come up with a study schedule."

Ron looked down. He didn't want to admit it, but he could never really understand Hermione's study schedules. They were all colour coded and indexed, and they were paced too fast. He had never had any trouble reading but suffered a significant problem when it came to writing. His handwriting was so bad that even he couldn't read it sometimes. Hermione seemed to read the anxiety in his face.

"A simple study schedule," she amended. "We'll find out where you are, and how to get you to where you need to be."

"Ok," said Ron. "It can't get worse than it is."

* * *

The first thing Hermione tried to tackle was Ron's handwriting.

"You want me to use a what?" he asked.

"A pen. I think it would help you out a lot," Hermione explained. "I'll even talk to Professor McGonagall for you if you like. I'm sure she'll allow it, especially when she sees the improvement I think it will have on your handwriting."

"Ok," said Ron. "I'll give it a try."

He spent a good half hour writing some lines with a quill, a calligraphy pen, a fountain pen, and a ballpoint pen. Hermione took the parchment to use as evidence when she presented her case to Professor McGonagall.

Watching Ron write the lines had given her an idea as to the underlying problem. She began to suspect that Ron had learning disabilities. To prove this, however, she first had to get Ron to open up to her. This was more difficult than she thought it would be. Ron did not like to talk about his own problems. Once Hermione had a goal, though, not even Hagrid would be able to divert her from her path. Ron didn't stand a chance. At her insistence, Ron described what classes were like from his perspective. She asked a lot of questions, took a lot of notes, and started coming up with a plan. She just needed to get it approved.

* * *

"You want me to let Ronald Weasley use a dictation quill in class?" Professor McGonagall asked. Her brow was furrowed in confusion. "Miss Granger, I know that you are aware that charmed quills are forbidden in the classroom, and I will not stand for cheating."

"I beg your pardon, Professor," explained Hermione, "but they're not forbidden in the classroom. I looked it up. Charmed quills are only forbidden for exams. He wouldn't be using the dictation quill for tests, only to take notes in class. Ron has a great deal of trouble writing."

"Ms Granger, I normally would not discuss a student's performance with one of his classmates," said McGonagall, "but since you've presented yourself as his advocate and given me this signed note from him giving his permission, I will make an exception. Many students have trouble getting used to quills when they first arrive at Hogwarts, but with practice they always get better at it. What I see in Mr Weasley is not an inability to learn. It is a total lack of effort."

"Yes, Professor," argued Hermione. "That is what you see _now_. It's the end effect of months of trying and failing, over and over and over again. If you please, I've prepared some visual aids to help me demonstrate my point."

"Very well," McGonagall said. She was somewhat shocked at the professional-looking presentation this first year was setting up.

"Thank you, Professor," began Hermione. "I believe Ron has Dysgraphia.* It's a learning disability that affects a person's ability to communicate in writing effectively."

"I think I've heard of that," said McGonagall. "Isn't that what some muggles get where they mix up letters in their heads?"

"No," corrected Hermione. "That's Dyslexia, but it is related to what I think Ron has. Dysgraphia* is a learning disability that greatly affects a person's ability to write. I was helping Ron come up with a study plan, and I got him to describe what going to school is like for him. As he described it, I found myself remembering a classmate I had named Daniel, who was in Year 5* with me back in my Muggle school. Daniel had an extremely hard time paying attention in class. Any time he tried to take notes, he had to concentrate so hard on the act of writing the note that he missed what the teacher was saying next. By the time he had finished writing, the teacher was so far ahead that Daniel ended up hopelessly lost. He'd end up so frustrated that he'd just spend the class daydreaming."

"That does sound an awful lot like Mr Weasley," McGonagall interjected.

"Yes, that's what I thought," agreed Hermione. "Assuming I'm correct, and please remember that I'm not a doctor, I believe that Ron currently has a choice to make in each class that he takes. He can either take no notes, which would help him in paying attention to the lecture, at least, but wouldn't help him study. Also, unless they were fully informed, Ron would likely get in trouble for not taking notes, which many of you might take as not paying attention. His other choice is to take notes but miss the lecture. It's a trap, and since he's trying to take notes, he doesn't hear the lecture, and since he doesn't hear the lecture, the notes he takes makes no sense to him at all."

"I see," said Professor McGonagall. She was beginning to understand that, at least in Ronald's case, the usual approach she took to teaching was not going to work.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, "I remember that the teachers tried several methods of dealing with his difficulties. At first, they asked me to make copies of my notes and let him use them. That was working well, but then I caught the flu and missed several days of classes, and they had to find another solution in case I wasn't available. One day, Daniel came into class with a doctor's note and a tape recorder."

"What is a tape recorder?" asked McGonagall.

"It's a muggle device," explained Hermione. "When you turn it on, it will record all of the audio within the range of its microphone. It allowed Daniel to have audio notes of the entire lecture part of the class without having to write notes." She pointed out a section of her presentation, where she had tried an experiment. "Here, I told Ron a short story and had him take notes about it while I told it. I then quizzed him on the content of the story. Ron missed many details about the story and filled in a lot of the gaps with his imagination. While this is creative, it certainly won't help him in class." She pointed to the next section on her parchment. "Here, I simply had Ron listen to the story without taking notes. The quiz he took then was much more successful."

"Ron did better without notes?" McGonagall asked, her voice betraying some scepticism.

"For a rather short story, yes," said Hermione. "For a classroom environment, taking no notes isn't a good option. He needs notes."

"And since he can't take them," McGonagall concluded, "you want me to allow him the use of a quick quotes quill?"

"I've heard of those, I think," said Hermione. "Some reporters use them, don't they? I'm sure there's a better version of them out there that only writes what's actually spoken without trying to put in a bunch of fancy language to make the story better. If there isn't, I'm fairly sure that at the very least _one_ of my professors is more than clever enough to charm a quill to do the job." Hermione smiled sweetly at her head of house, and McGonagall gave her a look. She then softened that look as she considered the request.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, "you have laid out a very well thought argument, and given me a great deal to think about. I agree that Mr Weasley needs help that he has not been getting thus far. I will discuss this with Headmaster Dumbledore, and interview Mr Weasley myself. I am very impressed with the interest you have shown in helping your fellow classmates, Miss Granger. Take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor." Hermione beamed. She always loved earning points.

"I do have one final request, Professor," the Gryffindor girl said.

"And what is that?" asked McGonagall.

"How do you feel about pens?" Hermione asked.

* * *

The morning Harry was to leave with Hermione, he had a meeting with the Jedi to say goodbye.

"Represent the Jedi on this world, you will," said Master Yoda. "Remember your training. Save you, it can."

"Be careful, Potter," added Master Amani. "You'll not just be able to whip out your lightsaber on this world, apparently." Master Amani was not impressed when he found out how restrictive the Magical government was to its own people. "Use caution, avoid trouble, and if you do get into a tight spot, make sure anything you do outside of the castle doesn't violate these ridiculous secrecy laws."

"I have faith in you, my Padawan," Toma said, "to always do what you know is right. The only thing I will ask is for you to also make sure that Hermione thinks it is right as well before you take any action. If you need anything, you have your communicator and Hedwig. Enjoy yourself, and be careful."

"Yes, Master," Harry said.

He and Hermione left the castle to spend Harry's first Christmas together.

_*Dysgraphia is a real learning disability, and the behaviours and symptoms I describe in this chapter are a good representation of how I felt when dealing with this in grade school. Of course, that was back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, and IEP's were only considered suggestions._

_**Year 5 in the U.K. is the equivalent of 4th Grade in the U.S._


	12. Chapter 12

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. Of course, for Harry Potter, that means I could have Hermione calmly set up Madam Umbridge to be dragged away by centaurs to be violently raped by half horses, but… Yeah, don't mess with Hermione. Because that's what centaurs do in mythology. There was a Cracked article about it._

* * *

Harry's first trip on the Hogwarts Express was quite enjoyable. He sat in a compartment with Hermione, Neville, and Daphne Greengrass. Daphne's friend Tracey ended up having to stay at the castle over the Christmas break due to an unexpected family emergency. Unfortunately for Daphne, this meant she had the choice of either sitting in the compartment where Draco would be prancing about like royalty, sitting in a compartment alone, or sitting with the Gryffindors. Since she was still livid at Draco because of the potions incident, she made her choice accordingly. As the train crossed the countryside, The Gryffindors got to know the Slytherin girl.

Daphne was a pure-blood and played the politics game in Slytherin well. She didn't buy into the pureblood doctrine, though. Early in her life, she had befriended the half-blood Tracey Davis, and they got along so well that she never fell into the social traps that her peers did. She never believed it when her pure-blood friends would say that anyone of lesser status was also of lesser intelligence, beauty, magical power, or any other comparable attribute. She could see the falsehood of those statements just by looking at her half-blood best friend.

She had to be careful about who she disagreed with, however, or how vigorously she defended her friend. Tracey understood that and didn't hold it against her when she had to publicly agree with some inane statement or position espoused by one of her Daddy's business partners. Her parents were of the opinion that no belief was wrong as long as it paid profit to the family business. Fortunately, no one had yet disapproved so vigorously that any explanations from her were required.

Daphne and Hermione got along extremely well. Early in their journey, they discovered a shared love of reading. Daphne confided in Hermione that the reason she was so upset about the loss of her diary was that it had been given to her by her Grandmother when she was only five. It had contained the last words the Greengrass Matron had ever written to her beloved Granddaughter in the dedication.

"I'm surprised none of the teachers was able to repair it," Hermione said.

"Well, I didn't actually ask," confessed Daphne. "No one really cares about an eleven-year old's diary."

"It's important to you, though," Hermione said. "Do you still have it? May I see it? Madam Pince taught me a few spells about repairing damage to books that were returned when I offered to help her in the library. Some of them were too advanced for me, but one of the most common things to happen to library books is being spilt on. I can't guarantee anything, but I can try."

Daphne dug it out of her bag and handed it to Hermione. She dared not to hope, but hope blossomed regardless.

"The trick, according to Madam Pince," explained Hermione, "is to clean the contamination without targeting the printing of the book itself." "Too often, someone will just try to scourgify it. That spell might clean whatever you're trying to get off of the book, but it will also wipe the text clean, leaving you with a blank book."

With a look of concentration, Hermione placed the tip of her wand in the very centre of one of the less important pages. She said the incantation, " _Emundabit Cera,_ " and Daphne smiled as the smudges of potion all moved up to the wand tip, where they were pulled away by Hermione. The page was left clear and smudge-free, with the text once again readable.

Hermione taught the spell to Daphne, and performed the cleaning spell on the most important pages herself, at Daphne's insistence. The two fell into a quick and easy rapport as they worked, and were soon finished.

Harry and Hermione, who would exchange their gifts on Christmas morning, gave Neville his presents from them. Hermione had given him a book on unusual plants and their uses in potions, and Harry had given him a copper cauldron, to replace the one Malfoy had melted. Neville had been borrowing one from the student equipment cupboard, and he was very grateful. While they were sure Draco wouldn't try it again, the copper would withstand a great deal more heat than the pewter one had.

Neville had given Hermione a nice stationery set, and Harry received a book on Wizarding etiquette. The gifts were all well received. Daphne poked a bit of fun at Neville about the cauldron, and they all shared the snacks they purchased from the food trolley.

There was a very cheerful spirit on the train, both figuratively and literally. The Fat Friar had grown a ghostly beard and accompanied the Hogwarts Express. He was entertaining everyone by popping into their compartments, singing Christmas carols and getting as many of them to join him as he could. He played a particularly good Jolly Old Saint Nick because when he laughed, he actually could jiggle his belly like a bowl full of jelly.

After the train pulled into Kings Cross station, the students disembarked. They met Neville's Gran on Platform 9 ¾. Augusta Longbottom didn't recognize her grandson. She was looking past him, annoyed, thinking that he was dawdling. It wasn't until he walked up and said hello that she realized it was Neville. The young Gryffindor had been running and doing various physical exercises with Harry and Hermione for over three months, and was in better shape than he had ever been. He was no longer the pudgy boy she had dropped off on the first day of school. The trio exchanged addresses with Daphne and wished Neville and his Gran a Happy Christmas. Harry and Hermione then exited Platform 9 ¾ to meet her parents on the muggle side.

"Well, let's have a look at you!" exclaimed Hermione's father. Mr Granger was a tall man who was heavily into physical fitness. He was very proud of his daughter, but he worried about her sitting on couches all day reading books. He had often tried to goad his daughter into going running with him but had not been successful. He was slightly offended that this boy had managed to get her to start working out, but he decided to have fun with it.

He pulled his daughter into a tight hug, then held her at arm's length. "My goodness, you look like you've grown a full inch since we've seen you!" he said, loudly.

"Dad!" Hermione protested. "Not in public!"

"Sorry!" her father said, quite loudly. He looked about as apologetic as a cat licking cream from its chops as he turned to Harry. "And this must be Mr Potter," he said, offering his hand. "Our Hermione has told us so much about you."

Harry shook the proffered hand and noticed the man was gripping him far harder than was necessary for a simple greeting. The message being sent was clear. _This is mine._

"Please, sir," he said to Hermione's father, "Call me, Harry."

"As you wish, Harry," said Mr Granger. "I am Daniel Granger, and this is my wife, Emma." He pulled his wife close, so his arm was around her shoulders. The message again was transmitted and received. _This too is mine._ Emma Granger rolled her eyes and gave Harry a warm hug.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "Don't mind Dan, he's been waiting to scare off boys for years. He's been practising that in the mirror so he could make it 'sound right' since we invited you!"

This revelation did nothing to diminish the smile on her husband's face.

"Well, dear," Emma Granger said to her husband, "since you've obviously been flexing to bulk up for Harry's benefit, I'm sure you can handle Hermione's luggage."

"Of course," Daniel Granger said, as he grabbed her trunk and bag. He hoisted the chest onto a luggage cart, while Harry handled his own.

* * *

Hermione's parents lived in a single-family home in Hampstead outside of London. It was only about a ten-minute drive from Kings Cross station. Once they arrived, Harry helped Mr Granger carry the luggage into the house. Hermione's mother immediately fell in love with Hedwig. She set the owl's perch up in the living room, and she spent several hours petting and talking to the snowy owl over the next few days.

Hedwig, feeling like an owl princess, made it clear to Harry that while she would always be his familiar, he was going to need to step up his game in the showing affection department. And the bacon department.

The afternoon after the majority of students left for the Christmas break, Minerva McGonagall visited Ronald Weasley. She was quite surprised to find him studying. _If Hermione Granger has managed to convince Ronald Weasley to study on his own, then God help anyone that gets in her way_ , she thought. She had a very productive talk with the young man, where she confirmed every single point that Ms Granger had made. She felt somewhat ashamed that it had taken a first-year student to point this issue out to the staff. With Headmaster Dumbledore having stepped down from the Wizengamot and the ICW, she decided to hand some of the Deputy Headmistress duties back to the Headmaster. Taking her cue from Albus's own lead, it was either going to be that or finding someone else to be the Deputy Head.

As long as there were students in the castle, a certain number of professors stayed for their protection. Many of the staff did have families, though, and liked to spend the holidays with them. Before their departure, Headmaster Dumbledore had called a staff meeting in his office at Professor McGonagall's request. She presented both her findings and those of Ms Granger, as well as Hermione's recommended strategies to deal with the problem.

* * *

"How do you wish to proceed?" Albus asked. There really wasn't any point in arguing whether Ron Weasley needed help. All of his professors were unanimous that something had to be done. Professor Snape, however, objected to Ron using a dictation quill in class.

"I do not agree that one student should be able to have a dictation quill, even if we restrict it's usage to exams," the Potions Professor said. "That would limit the benefit of having accurate and complete notes of the entire class lecture to one student. I believe this is something all of the children could benefit from." Slightly surprised looks were exchanged. "I propose that instead of one student with this advantage, each professor will set up a dictation quill in their classrooms. They can then duplicate the notes the quill takes and distribute them to interested students once their class is finished."

"An excellent suggestion," Headmaster Dumbledore said, approving the change. "This not only will help young Mr Weasley with his problem, but also provide better instruction for all."

The last item on the agenda, a change to allow students to use pens instead of quills if they desired, was also approved. There was more resistance to this idea, though. Some on the staff felt this was going against traditional values in favour of muggle fads that wouldn't stand the test of time. McGonagall's showing of Ronald Weasley's handwriting sampler ended all arguments.

The parchment demonstrating Ron using different writing implements was so devastating to that argument that, in the end, the change was approved unanimously. With that, the meeting came to an end. Most of the staff were leaving the castle for a much-deserved holiday. The year still had a long way to go, but so much change had been enacted already this year that they all felt the need for a break.

Albus Dumbledore had two more meetings before he could take a breather. First, Minerva McGonagall had stayed behind after the other staff departed for a private meeting. It was as good a time as any to tell her he was taking back some of the duties he had asked her to perform. She seemed relieved to hear this. Perhaps he had given her too much.

The Headmaster checked his supply of Lemon Drops. He might need a few shortly. Albus had a feeling his final meeting of the day would prove to be a great deal more contentious than the last one. Disagreements with your oldest friends tended to be that way, after all.

* * *

The first evening Harry spent in Hermione's home was very illuminating for him. He had never before in his memory experienced a family dinner. When the Grangers found this out, they began questioning him on how the Jedi live. He explained to them how the Jedi are chosen as toddlers, which horrified them.

"In the Republic, though, it's considered an honour to have your child chosen," he said, defending the only way of life he knew.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Mrs Granger. "It must be very difficult for you to suddenly be ripped away from everything you know."

"Can you tell me about this lightsaber of yours?" asked Dan. Harry showed it to the family and described basically how it worked. He then asked some questions of what it was like to live in and raise a family on Earth before they turned in for the night.

Christmas morning dawned and saw the Granger family up for present opening. Hermione's parents had gotten her plenty of books, as usual. Her father, seeing her new enthusiasm for running with Harry, promised another present for her.

"Tell you what, Pumpkin," he said, using his favourite affection for her, "tomorrow, we'll go out and get you some workout clothes. A special present from your loving Dad." Her mother again rolled her eyes and added her own twist.

"And as my own special present, I'll take you and help you pick out something nice, not just practical. We'll go to Harrods!" Hermione squealed and hugged her parents.

"And for my special present to Harry," Mr Granger said, "he doesn't have to go. We can stay here and watch a movie."

Dan Granger laughed as the girls threw pillows at him.

* * *

An owl arrived from Hagrid carrying presents for Harry and Hermione. Both of them received Mokeskin pouches that were charmed so that no one could remove their contents but their owners. It could also hold an astonishing number of items thanks to a permanent space expansion enchantment.

Hermione had given Harry a book on advanced defensive spells, which he very much appreciated. Harry's gift to Hermione was an indication to her parents of just how well he understood her. He had bought her a notebook. It had been invented by a Muggle-born who was trying to make the magical equivalent of a computer. While that hadn't worked out yet, the inventor's research had allowed him to make the Organizer's Notebook. Opening it, Hermione found an instruction manual, a page with the heading Scan, and a blank table of contents. The rest of the book was completely empty.

The notebook would never end, no matter how much she wrote in it. She could add whatever topic she wanted, and it would become a new category in the table of contents. She could even add subcategories nested into the main categories. So, for example, she would be able to separate her notes in Transfiguration by years attended. Tapping her quill (or pen) on a category or subcategory would cause the content pages to fill in with the pages assigned to that category and subcategory.

She could even add pre-existing notes using the scanner function. She just needed to choose the category she wanted the document to be stored in, place it face down in the square on the scanner page, and tap her quill in the Scan box. The existing note would be copied and added to the chosen category. This gift earned Harry the biggest hug he had ever received in his life.

The Granger parents had totally approved of Harry as their daughter's best friend. He was overly polite, always picked up after himself, treated their daughter with nothing but respect, and had actually managed to drag her nose out of her books. While they were intensely proud of Hermione's intelligence and talent, they worried that she would miss out on critical social interactions. They found Harry to be quite acceptable. Even if he was a boy, according to Mr Granger.

One of the Granger family traditions was carolling. They got together with several neighbour families after dinner and spent about an hour and a half canvassing the neighbourhood and spreading cheer. When he was told of the activity, Harry worried because he didn't know any of the songs. Everyone carried a songbook with the lyrics printed out, though, and they did a rehearsal in the living room before dinner.

Harry had noticed that the Granger parents had a predictable system of interactions with their daughter. Mr Granger would do or say something that was overly enthusiastic, which would be tempered by a more reserved and realistic response from Mrs Granger, usually accompanied by a loving eye roll. He asked Hermione about it while her parents were preparing Christmas dinner, and she confirmed that this was normal behaviour for her parents.

Harry had a great deal of fun carolling. He had never sung before and found he was surprised that he had a fairly good voice for it. Hermione's Dad was a very good singer, and always took a lot of fun in finding harmonies in the bass line of the carols. Mrs Granger sang as an alto in their church choir and had a fantastic voice. Hermione took after her mother in many ways, and her singing voice was no exception.

The carolers ended the evening sharing some hot apple cider and ginger cookies with the residents of the last house on the block. Hermione told him that this house was always the last stop every year. The neighbours all approved of Harry, and there was a lot of betting going on just out of the children's hearing about when they would end up as a couple.

The Grangers and Harry left the party to return to the Granger home. They were just about to enter the front door when Harry noticed a sudden surge in the Force and…

Dark


	13. Chapter 13

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. Of course, for Star Wars, that means I could have the mighty Chewbacca, the clearly most awesome character in this entire universe, so dumb that he trips an obvious trap because he just has to have this suspicious-looking meat hanging suspiciously on this suspicious moon while they're trying to avoid suspicious Stormtroopers._

* * *

Harry woke to find himself tied to a large stone column in the large garden behind the Granger house. Harry knew the column hadn't existed there yesterday. Another column was to his right with an old man tied to it. The man was dressed in a tan suit, and Harry saw that while most of his hair was white, a dark patch near his temple that could only be blood had spread. He looked around to find Hermione and found that his friend and her parents were all tied together. They were on the ground next to the large fountain that was the central feature of the Grangers garden. A bulky, robed figure in a black metallic mask was crouched on the ground between the two groups of captives.

 _Sith,_ Harry thought and began trying to get to his communicator to alert the Jedi. He then saw that the mask had turned to him.

"Happy Christmas, Harry Potter," the masked man said. His voice was muffled by a metallic echo caused by the obscuring face mask, but it did not obscure the scorn and contempt that belied the words. _Not Sith,_ Harry corrected himself, gaining some mental clarity as whatever had knocked him unconscious wore off. He felt waves of evil coming off of this man, but it was different than the Force. This was a wizard threat.

The man was examining a pile of objects on the ground in front of him, which Harry recognized as mostly his own equipment. He berated himself for not having put any of it in the remarkable Mokeskin pouch Hagrid had given him, which he had aside for later. He saw his lightsaber and wand lying next to his communicator. Hermione's wand was also in a pile. The stranger picked up Harry's lightsaber and began examining it. The young Jedi shook his head at how close the idiot came to killing himself. The probing finger brushed against the activation stud while the emitter was pointed straight at the intruder's face.

The exploring finger was obviously being guided by a light touch as the man's head remained un-impaled. _The luck of the foolish,_ Harry thought. Harry wasted one moment too many deciding whether or not activating the weapon remotely through the Force and being done with this situation would be considered too dark. The intruder removed that option by suddenly dropping the lightsaber in the pile of other items and standing up. He then brought a black boot down on Harry's communicator with a stomp and twisted it into the ground till sparks shot out from under his heel.

"No rescue for you today, Potter," the man sneered. He had obviously determined at least enough about the communicator to know it would allow Harry to call for help. The intruder took a step forward, leaving the rest of the gear behind.

Hermione and her parents watched as their assailant taunted Harry. As soon as the small pile of gear was to his back, Hermione's wand raised up on its own and slowly floated to her. She saw Harry watching her, making sure she got the wand without raising the stranger's suspicion. It looked very much like this intruder didn't know about the Force. She took her wand from the air as it floated to her. Whispering the incantations as softly as she could, she began to sever the ropes that bound her and her parents.

Harry attempted to keep the stranger's attention on himself as Hermione managed to get herself and her parents free.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is not important," the man answered. "All that is important is that you are here. And so is he." The man pointed a gloved finger at the old, white-haired man. The old man simply glared at the masked face and rolled his eyes. "Actually, the old man is not important, but what he carries is," the man continued.

One of the Grangers must have made a noise at that point because the cloaked man suddenly turned to them! At that moment, Harry reached out with the Force! His lightsaber leapt to him, and Harry could not resist turning it on while it was passing the masked stranger. The man proved he had good reflexes though, and barely managed to dodge the glowing shaft as it passed near his head. As the lightsaber returned to its rightful owner, the ropes keeping Harry confined to the column fell away, burned through by the beam of plasma. Harry now stood before the man not as a disarmed wizard, but as a Jedi with his lightsaber in hand.

The intruder turned back to Hermione, seeing the wand in her hand and clearly finding it the more significant threat.

"Most entertaining, Potter. Unfortunately, only one of you is required," the man said, as he sneered at Hermione. "As his Lordship has no desire to exist in a Mudblood body, I suppose that limits the choices."

"Hermione, get behind me!" yelled Harry. The masked man laughed as she tried to run to Harry. She hadn't quite made it there when a surge in the Force warned Harry of extreme danger! The man levelled his wand at Hermione. The young Jedi released his will to the Force as the intruder roared the words there was no forgiveness for.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

A green flash of energy bolted from his wand, rushing straight at the terrified witch, who had turned her head away in fear. Harry, however, had not been idle. While the would-be murderer cast his spell, Harry had run to Hermione, pivoted and spun his lightsaber around to intercept the oncoming curse! The sickly green bolt of death was met by the brilliant, fiery green of Harry's lightsaber blade. The curse was deflected back to its origin point. The last thing the man behind the mask saw was his own killing curse rebounding back to him. The look of shock and surprise was permanently frozen on his face behind the mask as the spell wiped the life from him.

When the curse impacted the plasma shaft, the entire length of the blade flashed brighter than it ever had shone before. With a yelp, Harry dropped his lightsaber! The handle had glowed cherry red and was too hot to hold. The blade flared out with a crack as the handle hit the ground. Harry looked at his hand and saw that the pattern of the grip had burned into his palm. He looked around him, confirmed there were no further threats, and then looked for Hermione and her parents.

"Are you alright?" he asked Hermione, who was crying softly and had fallen to her knees. Her parents had wrapped her in their arms. She nodded but was sniffling too much for speech. The old man who was bound to the stone column was watching them with sharp, intelligent eyes.

"Sir," Harry called out. "Are you injured?"

"Not badly," the man answered. "Though I'd appreciate some assistance in getting loose from this rock."

"Hermione, could you help him?" Harry asked. "I need to try to get ahold of Master Toma."

"Of course," said Hermione. She took a deep breath, gave another squeeze to the family hug, and unwrapped herself from her parent's arms. Getting to her feet, she went to free the old man.

Harry looked for his communicator and found that it was smashed and broken when the intruder crushed it with his boot. He took a closer look at his lightsaber. The handle was no longer glowing. Testing the temperature with his fingertips, he found that it was still slightly warm, but had already cooled enough to hold. He felt a sense of loss that he could not describe as he observed tendrils of smoke seeping out where a green blade of light had glowed only seconds before. The lightsaber had been presented to him by Toma three years ago and felt like an old friend. As he picked it up, he flinched as he heard a clinking noise and several small shards of what could easily be mistaken for emerald fell out of the emitter into his hand.

Taking a closer look at the communicator, he saw it was beyond repair without the help of a fully equipped workbench and a lot of spare parts. That would make things more difficult. Hedwig was amazing, but she would still take some time to make such a long-distance flight. He needed to request support from both the Jedi and the Wizards. They had a dead body here, after all, and it belonged to somebody.

Suddenly, the dead body wasn't looking so very dead. Harry felt the Force warning him of danger again as a swirling vapour rose from the body of the fallen villain. Instinctively trying to ignite his lightsaber, he cursed as only sparks, and green smoke emerged from the emitter. Hermione saw this as well and yelled for her parents to take cover. Instead, the parents rushed to their daughter and stood in front of her.

Giving off a scream of rage, the vapour took the form of a cloud with a man's face. Ignoring the muggles, it flew straight at Harry. The Jedi Padawan could not even try to dodge before it flew straight through his chest. As it did, his scar exploded with pain. Harry fought to remain upright, desperate to reach Hermione and get her back inside before the wraith attacked her. As the pain from his scar radiated into the rest of his head, he fell to the ground. He heard the wraith screaming again, but this time it sounded like it was in agony, as well. He lost consciousness while trying to crawl to where Hermione was crouched behind per parents, her wand out to protect them. The last sound he heard before the darkness took him was Hermione screaming his name. She sounded so extremely far away.

* * *

Harry woke in a soft bed but did not yet open his eyes. In fact, if you did not know him extremely well, you would be hard-pressed to have noticed the change in his state of consciousness. He flexed every muscle he could without moving it, looking for injuries. He seemed to be okay in that regard. He had a bit of a leftover headache, and his chest felt like he had a sunburn where the ghost or cloud had flown through him, but he seemed otherwise to not be damaged. He reached out with the Force and noted that no one seemed to be in his immediate vicinity, but that Hermione and Master Toma were both near. He opened his eyes and found that he was in bed in the guest room at Hermione's parent's house. Someone had removed his Jedi clothes and put him in pyjamas. _By the Force, let that have been Toma_ , Harry thought. It was morning, but he didn't yet have a good sense of whether one night had passed or many.

Harry got out of bed and saw his tunic and pants draped over a chair. He quickly changed into them. Passing the dresser, he saw his lightsaber sitting on top of it. He left it there for the moment, remembering that it was currently broken. Walking over to the door, Harry opened it as quietly as he could. He saw that Hermione and her parents were seated around a round breakfast table with a kettle of tea and a plate of finger sandwiches. They were talking softly over cups of tea and did not seem to be in danger. His presence at the door was noticed at once.

"Harry!" yelled out Hermione, jumping up to give him an enormous hug. Mrs Granger walked over as well and asked how he was feeling.

"I'm okay, Mrs Granger," he reassured her. "Just a bit of a headache. Is everyone here, alright?" he asked, anxiously.

"We're okay," Mrs Granger answered, "but very confused."

"Me too," said Harry. "How long was I asleep?" he asked her.

"You slept through the night," she answered, and Harry got the impression from the tired look in her eyes that she had sat up all night watching to be sure he was okay. It seemed like such a... mother thing to do. It nearly caused him to cry, and he had to force himself to stop thinking about it lest he did. He did risk giving her a hug, though, which she appreciated.

"Has anyone contacted Professor Dumbledore, yet?" he asked.

"Yes, Harry, they did," Dumbledore's voice came from the kitchen. The Headmaster emerged from the kitchen entrance with Toma Kendet and the old man that had been tied next to Harry.

"We borrowed Hedwig," explained Hermione. "She made the journey surprisingly quickly. I wasn't aware owls could travel that fast."

"Master Toma," Harry said, bowing to Toma. "Headmaster," Harry said, greeting the Professor. "Sir," he addressed the man who was now wearing a clean, expensive-looking suit.

Like anyone else would, he looked far friendlier in the light of day, with the blood washed out of his hair.

"I'm glad to see that you're alright," Harry said.

The man smiled and nodded.

"Thanks to you, Mr Potter," said the white-haired man, "I'll make a full recovery."

A rather tall, brown-haired woman in her middle ages was also in the kitchen. She entered the dining room and shook Harry's hand.

"I'm Amelia Bones, Mr Potter," she introduced herself, "director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Any relation to Susan Bones?" Harry asked. "She's a Hufflepuff in my year."

Madam Bones smiled.

"She's my niece," she said proudly. "She has written to me about you. It seems you've made quite an impression on everyone in the school."

Dumbledore brought Harry's attention back to the white-haired old man.

"Harry Potter," said Dumbledore, "I would like you to meet my good friend Nicholas Flamel."

"Mr Flamel," said Harry, "It's a pleasure to be officially introduced."

"The pleasure is mine, Mr Potter," Flamel said, shaking Harry's hand.

"Perhaps," suggested Dumbledore, "Nicholas would consider making your introduction more formal, Harry."

"I beg your pardon?" asked Flamel.

"I was hoping," Dumbledore said, "that you would consider a teaching post at Hogwarts. I appear to be a Professor short at the moment."

"You do seem to go through them," Flamel responded. "Is it not true that the last one actually died?"

"Yes," said Albus. "However, that problem has been solved. There was a curse on the position."

"So," said Flamel, "The rumour is true."

"It _was_ true," corrected Dumbledore. "It was placed there by Tom Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort."

He explained the name for the benefit of Harry, as Nicholas was well aware of Voldemort's true identity.

"It was a rather simple curse," Dumbledore continued, "but extremely powerful."

"How did he set it up?" Flamel asked, interested in spite of himself.

"Oh, it was most elegant," answered Albus. "I refused to offer him the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, so no one who was appointed would be able to hold it except himself."

"Ahhh…," Flamel exclaimed, "and since he had possessed Professor Quirrell and occupied his body while the class was taught, the curse considered the exit condition satisfied."

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "Since the curse is now broken, you may teach as long as you wish."

"There's the sticky bit, though," said Flamel. "I do not wish to."

Dumbledore frowned.

"I'll give you credit, Albus," said Flamel, "from what I have heard, you have been doing much better in the past few months. I understand you've made some good strides in getting your staff back under control. However, you still have much further to go before you, or your school will meet my educational standards. I also refuse to operate under the draconian restrictions your government forces on you."

"I see," said Dumbledore, disappointed, but not too surprised.

Flamel turned back to Harry.

"I must say, Mr Potter," Flamel said, "I've heard a lot of good things about you, and I'm happy you're again amongst us. I remember corresponding with your mother when she was a student at Hogwarts. She asked the most curious questions. I've kept the letters, and would be happy to provide you with them if you wish."

"Yes, please," said Harry. He had always been curious about his parents, and to have a letter in her own writing would be a connection to her that he would treasure. He really hoped that Toma wouldn't order him to refuse them. The Jedi were supposed to leave all connections behind them.

"It's the least I can do," said Flamel. "I have no doubt that without your intervention, last night would have been a rather messy situation."

"Your talent for understatement has lost none of its potency over the years," said Headmaster Dumbledore. "I'm glad you've finally come around and made the right choice on the stone."

"Have I ever told you that you are insufferable when you're saying 'I told you so?'" Flamel fired back.

"Several times, at least," answered the Headmaster, "and you are hardly unique in that respect."

"I'm sorry," interjected Harry, "what's going on?"

"My apologies, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Nicholas and I were merely continuing a conversation we have been having for many years, now."

"Conversation," Flamel snorted dismissively, "you mean argument! You've been haranguing me for decades about that stone. I've already told you I've agreed, Albus," said Flamel, irritably. "Since you apparently cannot stop Voldemort, I must destroy my stone."

"Please calm down," said Madam Bones. "There's no need to argue here."

"What stone?" asked Harry.

"Well," said Dumbledore, "that requires a little history. Perhaps we should all sit down."

* * *

Sitting around the dining room table, Dumbledore had explained the basic history of Voldemort's rise to power, and how close he came to winning. He hinted about the reason Voldemort had killed Harry's parents, and why he tried to kill the infant Harry. He did not go into details about the prophecy but implied that Voldemort had received information from somewhere that Harry would be powerful enough to defeat him. He detailed the actions that had been taken that night, right up to the point where Toma took Harry.

"With you gone, and Voldemort alone and friendless, ten long years passed. Which brings us to the Stone. As I'm sure you'll remember, Harry," Dumbledore explained, "at the beginning of the school year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side was out of bounds." Harry nodded. "Just before term start, I learned of a plot by the remnant of Voldemort to gain control of the Philosopher's Stone."

"How did you find that out if Voldemort was alone?" asked Harry.

"I'm sorry?" asked Dumbledore, confused.

"You said Voldemort was alone and friendless," Harry said, "so how did you find out he was after the stone?"

Dumbledore did not immediately answer. At that point, Hermione chimed in.

"For that matter," she asked, "how do you know exactly what happened when Voldemort attacked the Potters? Was there a witness?"

"Well, no," Dumbledore admitted. "Much of this is only conjecture, based on his past behaviours and what we found after the fact. I believe my guesses are an accurate representation of the truth, however."

Madam Bones looked shocked.

"How much of what you know about that night is only conjecture, and how much is based on observation?" she asked.

Dumbledore was uncomfortable with this line of questioning, as he knew that most of what he always touted as the truth was really only guesswork. He still was confident his guesses were close enough to the truth to be quite reliable, but he also knew Madam Bones was a stickler for procedure. He decided to answer Hermione's questions with the hope that no one remembered Harry's question or the fact that he never answered it.

"As I admitted, there were no witnesses present that night, but as he was not interested in taking any steps to cover his tracks on the way into the house, and there was no one to cover his tracks after, we were able to follow the magical clues and make our deductions."

"Why am I just learning of this now?" asked Madam Bones, angrily. "Merlin, Albus, people went to prison over that night!"

Dumbledore winced as she brought that up. He did not want Harry to find out about Sirius yet. The man was dangerous.

"Getting back on track," Dumbledore said, trying to wrest control of the conversation again. "We determined the Stone was in danger through the use of methods I will not discuss here. Nicholas and I decided it would be best if the Stone were to be placed in Gringotts for safekeeping. Again, information was obtained that the Stone was in danger, so it was moved into Hogwarts. I did not believe Voldemort would dare attempt to penetrate the castle."

Dumbledore was toeing a line here. He was giving out information that was potentially damaging to himself. At the same time, he knew that his actions at the time were incorrect. If he went too far down this road, though, he would be removed from the situation entirely. That could have disastrous consequences.

"What do you think would have happened if he had gotten the Stone?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore was relieved to be back onto the topic of the Stone, and off the topic of how Voldemort knew of it.

"Again, I can only guess. I do know that when Tom Riddle, who later became Voldemort, was at Hogwarts, he was fascinated by the legends of the Stone, as have been so many others. A book was found in the restricted section of the Hogwarts Library with his name down as having checked it out while still a student. In that book, a ritual was noted that, if performed by a loyal servant, would allow Lord Voldemort to permanently take residence in a living body. He first needed a loyal servant."

"Yaxley," Madam Bones said.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered. "Corban Yaxley was a suspected former Death Eater who got out of any punishment by claiming he was under the influence of the Imperius Curse." He needed to pause here to explain 'Death Eater,' and 'Imperius Curse' to those who did not yet know. "The description of the wraith you saw, leaving Yaxley's body was the same as I witnessed leaving the body of Professor Quirrell. He was possessing Yaxley, and once he had the Stone that he would take from Nicholas, all he needed was a suitable body to perform the ritual. He chose you."

"Voldemort had found out you were going to be staying here at the Grangers." Dumbledore waved his hand around to indicate the house around them. "Again, it is only a suspicion, but I suspect a student probably leaked the information and it reached Voldemort by some means I do not know. He, therefore, knew where you were and when you were there. If he had succeeded, your soul would have been forced out of your body. Voldemort would then take up permanent residence in its place." A chill went through Harry.

"What would have happened then?" he asked, sounding far more like a normal eleven-year-old than he usually did.

"I am afraid," explained Dumbledore, "that without the precautions Voldemort had already taken, the soul cannot exist without the body. You may have lingered for a few minutes at most, but would have dissipated eventually."

"And everyone else?" Harry asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"Voldemort was never merciful to Muggles," answered Dumbledore. "Or to Muggleborns."

"What if he were to obtain a different stone, sir," Harry asked.

"The only Philosopher's Stone known to exist belongs to Nicholas," said Dumbledore. "We have, just this morning, finally agreed that it should be destroyed. That will end one path for a return for Voldemort."

"Let's get this over with," said Nicholas. Flamel laid down a large, ruby-coloured gemstone on the table. He stared at it forlornly for a moment, then struck it once in the middle with his wand. It fell to two pieces and laid there on the table.

"Well," said Flamel, "that's that." He looked very sad.

"It was the right decision, Nicholas," insisted Dumbledore "especially in light of Voldemort's interest in it."

"You never wanted me to keep it, Albus," Nicholas said, sounding suddenly tired. "This was just your latest excuse."

"The threat, as I hardly think I need remind you, was real," retorted Dumbledore. "But yes, I have been opposed to you possessing the Stone for many years now. I've always thought that it was not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as one could want. It will never cease to surprise me how people have a knack for choosing precisely that which is worst for them."

"Try telling that to the sick and penniless," responded Flamel, his voice like acid. "Did you think I was amassing mountains of gold for myself? That I was keeping myself and Perenelle alive because we fear death? The Stone creates life. We have a hospital, for Merlin's sake, do you have any idea how far back this is going to set us?"

"Sometimes," Dumbledore said, "for…"

"If you utter the words 'Greater Good' at me," interrupted Flamel, "I swear to God, I will shove one half of this stone up each one of your nostrils!"

Time seemed to cease, as Dumbledore gaped at Flamel, his jaw hanging open. The eyebrows of everyone present, Muggle, magical, and Jedi alike, disappeared under hairlines.

"I only agreed to this," continued Flamel, "because apparently, you and your Order of the Pigeon or whatever, is incapable of keeping the Stone out of his hands. Certainly, I cannot keep him and his followers at bay on my own. Kindly don't try to get me to believe in this world of yours where death is good, and money is bad." Dumbledore's eyes flashed in anger.

"Of course I do not think that Nicholas, and I'll thank you not to imply otherwise. You know perfectly well I was referring to excessive wealth that does no good for anyone. And I do not fear death, either, but I do fear the lengths some have gone to in order to stay past their time."

Flamel looked at Dumbledore with a glare that would turn a pond of water to ice.

"I will assume for the sake of what remains of our friendship that you are referring to Voldemort, and not to my wife or me," the old alchemist said. His voice brooked no room for argument. "I think it is high time we stopped being so unspeakably rude in our host's home. This conversation is at an end, Albus. The Stone is gone, and I insist that you never bring it up with me again!"

Dumbledore nodded. He knew he should not have lost his temper.

"I am sorry, my friend, " Dumbledore said. "I forgot my place, as well as where we are. As always, if you need me, or the Order of the _Phoenix_ , we will be at your disposal."

He turned to Mr and Mrs Granger, who were staring with wide eyes at the two old wizards having a massive row in their living room.

"I do apologize to the both of you as well," Dumbledore said to Hermione's parents. "If you will all excuse me, I will return to Hogwarts."

He faced Harry and Hermione, told them to enjoy what remained of their break, and departed.

Amelia Bones left shortly after. She had all the evidence she needed to posthumously hang Yaxley. She did not like most of the revelations that came out about how much Dumbledore had known, or as she now knew, had not known. She was going to have to start carefully and quietly going through some old files. It would be difficult doing so without raising suspicions, and would probably keep her busy for a long time.

* * *

After Dumbledore left, (or slunk away with his tail between his legs as Dan Granger later described it,) the Grangers insisted on having Mr Flamel stay for tea. There were a few things they wanted some clarification on without the Headmaster around to object. They felt somewhat misled by tales of how Hogwarts was the premier school in the world for magic. It now it sounded very much like it was not. Also, Daniel Granger had an idea after seeing the pieces of the Philosopher's Stone, but he had no idea if it would work or not. Regular magic was way over his head. Add in this Jedi stuff, and he felt like he was in a movie. He had picked Harry up off of the ground and placed him in bed after that ghost or whatever had flown through him. Emma had brought in the boy's lightsaber, knowing he would want to see it as soon as he woke. Dan had not missed the sound of the shattered crystal when she put it on the dresser.

Harry had not gone into tremendous detail when describing the parts of a lightsaber earlier in the week, but he had mentioned something called a focusing crystal. He was certain he was just a silly muggle, but if it worked, he might be able to supply Harry with that special Christmas present he joked about on Christmas Day. He did, after all, owe the boy.

"Mr Flamel," Dan said after tea and cake had been served, "are the pieces of the stone worth anything?"

"I am afraid not," answered the alchemist. "At least not as far as alchemy is concerned. They could probably be made into jewellery, I suppose. I will not bore you with details, but a vital component of the Philosopher's Stone is a naturally grown ruby of at least twenty carats. With the Stone split in two, it will never work again."

"I'm wondering if they might have any other uses and if you'd be willing to sell them to me if the Jedi think it will work," said Mr Granger. He turned to Harry. "Your lightsaber, Harry. We only brought it in for you, but we know it needs at least a new crystal. Is there any way you could use the pieces to the Stone if we can buy them for you?" Harry looked at Toma, who looked thoughtful.

"It is certainly possible," Toma said. "While Ilum crystals are the most popular, they are certainly not the only choices available to focus a lightsaber blade. It is worth the attempt if the stones can be obtained for a reasonable price."

"I owe Harry far more than just a few pieces of rock that are now worthless to me anyway," Nicholas said. "I will gift them to you, Harry," Flamel said as he handed the pieces to the boy. "If you don't mind, though, I'd like the opportunity to examine the crystal that's in your lightsaber. I would also like to observe how you use the stones to replace it. If whatever you're going to try does not work, I also might be able to come up with something you haven't thought of. There are plenty of crystal forms on Earth, and I am an alchemist, after all."

"Mr Flamel, may I ask you a question?" Hermione inquired. Harry and Flamel were working next to each other at the Grangers breakfast table, which had been temporarily converted to a workbench. Harry was cleaning every speck of crystal out of his lightsaber hilt. Nicholas was examining the green crystal under a small microscope Dan Granger had lent him. Hermione was watching everything.

"Please, call me Nicholas," answered Flamel. "What would you like to know?"

"I'm sorry if this is prying, but in everything I've ever heard or read about you where you are also mentioned with Headmaster Dumbledore's name, you are described as being great friends."

"And you'd like to know why I treated my 'great friend' in such a… brusque manner, shall we say?" Nicholas asked the question for Hermione, who was trying to find a diplomatic way to put that very question.

"Well, yes." confirmed the girl.

"I am hesitant to say anything," said Flamel, "as I do not wish to colour your opinion of the man. You do still need to show him respect as the Headmaster of your school, after all." He sighed, then shrugged his shoulders. "Let me ask you a question, Miss Granger. Have you ever had someone hang on to your coat tails so hard that it became impossible to shake them off?" Hermione shook her head.

"I'm not quite sure I understand what you mean, but I don't think so," she replied.

"I envy you, then," Nicholas continued. "After more than 600 years of alchemy work, I've had many of them. All of them extremely intelligent, all of them very ambitious, all of them trying to emulate what I accomplished. Dumbledore is merely the latest and most stubborn of them." He shook his head slowly. "Treating them with respect only eggs them on, it seems, and then I have the added headache of the press treating that as an endorsement. Teaching them what they want to know is worse. When things go wrong, I'm attacked for teaching the imbecile knowledge that he then abused. Dumbledore has always felt that he alone knows best, and if anyone wants to keep information from him, then it must be for nefarious intent. When I wouldn't share with him how to make a Philosopher's Stone, he assumed the worst."

"I'm surprised you aren't more upset about losing the Stone," Hermione said." Her parents looked mortified at this.

"Hermione!" her mother scolded.

"I'm sorry!" Hermione said to Flamel, her cheeks burning with a massive blush.

Nicholas Flamel laughed.

"It's perfectly fine, my dear," he said, a warm smile on his face. "In fact, if you promise not to mention it to Dumbledore, I do have a slight confession to make."

"You have another stone!" realized Emma Granger. Her own face turned red as she realized she had just let out an outburst she would have scolded her daughter for.

"I am the only one who knows how to make one, am I not?" he asked. "It only made sense to make two, in case anything happened to the first. With Voldemort sure to get word of the Stone's destruction, his eye should turn elsewhere, and I can go on quietly helping my neighbours through the judicious use of the backup Stone in my hospital."

Nicholas shook his head. "To be honest, though, Dumbledore is completely correct in that most people would not react well to the Stone. Greed is an immensely powerful thing, and very addictive as well. It is best that everyone thinks the Stone is destroyed. That does mean I'll have to cut back on its usage in the hospital." Seeing that the Grangers were upset at this, he amended the statement. "From now on, I'll only use it for actual, life-threatening events, and I'll be sure to administer it in an unnoticeable method that still provides enough benefit to save the patient's life. The gold, of course, I can just claim I created prior to the destruction of the Stone."

"It seems like our trust in the Headmaster has taken a bit of a downturn," said Dan Granger. Nicholas shook his head.

"Please don't let my bitterness about the man decide you as to his character," cautioned the old man. "What you are seeing with us is almost one hundred years of frustrations finally boiling over. While I will never claim the man is not sometimes… lets us say misguided, he is still the most powerful wizard we have on the side of the light. And make no mistake, that is the side he will always be on."

"Why is he misguided?" asked Emma.

"Let me ask this of you as parents," said Nicholas. "Suppose I was to tell your daughter that she is extremely talented and brilliant, what would your reaction be?"

"We'd agree with you," answered Dan and Emma together.

"And well you should," said Nicholas. "Now let us take it a step further. How would you feel if I told her that three times a day?"

"Well, while I'd agree with you, I'd wonder if you weren't taking it a bit over the top," said Dan.

"Ahhh... You'd begin to wonder what my agenda was, perhaps?" Nicholas asked.

"Probably," answered Dan.

"Now I start bringing friends over with me, and we're all praising her all day long. We're asking her to do our thinking for us. We're asking her to give us her opinion on things she has no logical reason to know anything about. We're hoping and praying that her common sense is greater than our experienced knowledge."

"And now I would kick the lot of you out of my house," said Dan, laughing.

"Exactly," Nicholas agreed. "And that's precisely what wizarding Britain has done to Dumbledore. They've recognized him as being the greatest of them, so he must know everything about everything. It wasn't quite as sudden as the example I just used, of course. In the beginning, he resisted believing the constant praise. The wizarding world, though, was so persistent in needing someone to think for them that they continued long enough to wear him down. It was slow enough that he finally allowed it. Slowly, day by day, the wizards and witches of Britain dug a hole, stuffed their hero into it, and filled it in with praise. It would be enough to affect anyone."

"How have you avoided the same trap?" asked Emma. Nicholas smiled.

"By being unpleasant enough that no one could tolerate me long enough to keep praising me," he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

In the end, it took a combined effort to build the lightsaber. Toma reshaped the largest piece of the fragmented crystal to make a slender crystal shaft about the diameter of a pencil. This would retain the property of the crystal that was imbued with the Force. Nicholas used the pieces of the Stone and some rather complicated charms to form a sleeve that this shaft would fit snugly into.

Using an alchemical process no one in the room but himself understood, Nicholas was able to merge the two crystals into one construct. When he was finished, the two very different crystals seamlessly merged into each other. The result was a transparent gold band separating the red and green sections. No one was quite certain what effect this would have. The Stone was a magical artefact and combining with the Force-sensitive Adegan kyber crystal took the end result out of predictable knowledge.

Harry went over his lightsaber hilt with everything from what looked to Dan Granger to be an ordinary oscilloscope, to an actual magnifying glass. The young Jedi went through every circuit and component in minute detail. The power pack needed to be replaced, as the spell had overloaded it, and Harry needed to replace some small components on boards that controlled the power regulation. These had blown out when the power pack ruptured. The handle was in perfect condition, a fact for which Harry was incredibly grateful. He was very fond of his lightsaber, and was steeling himself for the moment he turned it on again.

Worst case scenario: nothing happened. The Stone might be totally incompatible with the alien technology, and it just sat there, doing nothing. This was unlikely.

Best case scenario: He might gain some magical abilities, or the ability to cast with it as he did with his wand.

Most likely scenario: it would be a regular lightsaber, but probably with an unusual colour.

Harry had finished cleaning and inspecting and was ready for the crystal. The final act of tuning the crystal was Harry's task, as the user of this lightsaber. It would take a few hours of concentration with the Force, but not the days a completely new crystal would need, due to the Adegan crystal core that had already been tuned.

The final assembly was performed in the Granger living room. Harry, sitting cross-legged on the floor, had each component levitating in the air in front of him. The crystal was the heart of a lightsaber, residing in the centre of the hilt. When he had them perfectly aligned, he compressed the pieces to the crystal. Harry took great care to ensure the crystal stayed perfectly still as the other components moved towards the centre and clicked home. He reached out and took the lightsaber from the air.

For a moment, it seemed warmer than it should have, and he thought he saw a gold spark shoot out of the end of it, but it soon felt normal again. Harry stood and held the lightsaber out. Pressing the activation stub, he turned it on.

The moment it was activated, the silver-coloured grip turned gold in a wave that started in the centre and radiated out till the entire handle was converted. At the same time, Harry felt his hand grow warm for a moment. A tingle he had never felt with his lightsaber before buzzed through his hand, then returned to normal. A red shaft of plasma emerged from the emitter. It was not the electric crimson that the Sith were so fond of, but a deeper, richer, ruby red with thin green and gold ribbons of translucent light snaking through it. Green sparks of light chased each other through the gold ribbons and vice versa in endless races through the blade.

Harry turned the lightsaber off and examined the now golden handle.

"Well, that was interesting," the young Jedi said.

Toma took the lightsaber from Harry and examined it. This changing from one metal to another was quite beyond the knowledge of the Jedi. He showed Nicholas where not to push and allowed him to examine the gold lightsaber as well.

"Well," the alchemist stated, "it looks like the Stone may have some power left in it after all! It's not pure gold, however. It appears to be a gold alloy. May I ask what metal the handle was made of prior to the Stone's influence?"

"Polished duraplast," answered Toma. "It's an extremely strong metal, and one which is commonly used in many industries in the Republic."

"Well, I'm not sure what 'duraplast' is or if there is an Earth equivalent without analyzing it, but I'd say it's a good thing the Stone turned it into an alloy. Pure gold is very soft and malleable. While it would make a pretty decoration, as a weapon, it would be useless." He handed the lightsaber back to Harry. "Well, Mr Potter, you may now say you have a gold/duraplast alloy for your lightsaber handle."

Hermione looked at the gold lightsaber in Harry's hand, pondering it.

"Professor Dumbledore will be asking questions about this, won't he?" she asked. "He's not stupid, and it's not going to escape his notice that within days of being present at the destruction of the only Philosopher's Stone known to exist, your previously silver lightsaber is now gold, and the blade is suddenly the same shade of red the Stone was. How could he not notice?"

"I believe I can handle that," said Toma. "Harry, I would like to let Master Yoda examine your lightsaber." Harry handed it to him without hesitation. Toma placed it in his side pouch. "It will be returned to you when you return to Hogwarts. In the meantime, please carry this." He handed Harry a lightsaber that was similar enough to his own that a casual observer wouldn't notice the difference. "It is not tuned to you, as your own is, but it will certainly suffice for the moment." Harry turned it on and noticed its blade was also green.

Nicholas offered to side apparate Toma back to Hogsmeade, which Toma accepted. Toma and Harry bowed and said, "May the Force be with you," while Nicholas said his goodbyes. He again gave his thanks to Harry and Hermione for their actions in rescuing him, to the Grangers for their hospitality, and to all of them for their discretion in their knowledge of his spare Philosopher's Stone. Wishing them all a Happy Christmas and a Happy New Year, they departed. Once in Hogsmeade, Nicholas invited Toma to the Three Broomsticks for a drink before Toma returned to Hogwarts and Nicholas for home. Toma accepted, and the two, now friends, entered the pub.


	14. Chapter 14

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they wouldn't have them do themselves. Of course, for Harry Potter, that means I could have Hermione name her own kid Hugo, or allow it to be done. No offence if your name is Hugo, but for me, it's a HuNO!_

* * *

It started in the ministry. Madam Bones prided herself on her accuracy, and so the reports she filed on the incident were true and precise. They were immediately delivered to Cornelius Fudge, who thought these reports needed to go no further than his desk. The Minister for Magic didn't want to cause a panic with rumours of You-Know-Who flying around possessing people.

Not that he believed such a thing actually occurred, of course. The reports just said a cloud of vapour with a face that screamed. The Minister noted that in the report, Harry Potter didn't claim this cloud had introduced itself as You-Know-Who, or anyone else for that matter. It had only mentioned Yaxley. It would be irresponsible to go around claiming You-Know-Who was back when there was no actual evidence that he really, really was. Well, it was too late for Yaxley, at any rate. He couldn't defend himself against any charges, what with being dead, and Fudge was only too glad to let the apparently not so former Death Eater take the entire fall.

The Minister for Magic knew very well the measure of the people he was Minister for. He was quite well aware that once they got it in their minds that You-Know-Who was back, they'd be bleating at him like sheep to do something about it. He should know them, after all. He frequently was the beneficiary of their fickle loyalties and instant judgements. So, he ordered that the reports on this incident be immediately sealed.

Sealing the files stopped any news of You-Know-Who from becoming public knowledge, but other facts were not so easily contained. Yaxley had been killed by a killing curse, and that curse was verified to have come from his own wand. Those facts were verified in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and managed to escape that office before the news embargo took effect. Much like trying to put a genie back in a bottle, the news could not be fully contained. The few facts were quickly diluted with guesswork (some of it more accurate than others) and outright fantasy. Each retelling further escalated the story as each teller added or changed bits to fit his or her audience. The facts that entered the ministry bore little resemblance to the rumours that left it not many hours later.

Like wildfire, the news spread across Wizarding Britain. Harry Potter had survived the killing curse again! No mention was made that it was actually Hermione Granger the curse was fired at, nor would the public have cared had it known. The only consistent facts were that Yaxley had fired the killing curse and that Harry had somehow deflected it. Before long, some versions of the story had transformed to include Harry standing there, letting the spell bounce off of his invincible chest while shouting 'For my mother!'

There was a vague awareness in the Wizarding world that not everything printed in their newspapers was entirely accurate. As long as the publishers didn't go too far overboard, however, they were free to sensationalize all they liked to juice the story up. They did their job very well.

* * *

Harry, enjoying his first Christmas holiday with the Grangers, was blissfully unaware of how much the rest of the country was talking about him. The family was sitting on the couch a few days after Christmas, having just finished watching a movie. Harry was staring at the palm of his right hand in confusion.

"Hermione, can you take a look at my hand, please?" he asked.

Mr and Mrs Granger had gone to the kitchen to get some snacks before starting the next movie when it occurred to Harry that something was odd about his right hand. It had been bothering him all day, and he hadn't been able to figure out what it was. Hermione looked his right hand over, but couldn't find anything.

"I'm not sure what I'm looking for," she said to Harry.

"The burns from the handle of my lightsaber," he explained. "I just realized they don't hurt anymore."

Her eyes opened wider as she understood and examined his hand closer.

"They're pretty well healed," Hermione said, tracing the thin lines that formed a square and several straight lines on his palm.

"Holding hands already?" asked Emma Granger. She had returned to the living room with a tray of finger foods. Her voice was teasing, but still kind.

"Could you take a look at this, Mum?" Hermione asked.

Emma took Harry's right hand and examined it. She was a dentist but was also trained in basic first aid, so when Dan had brought an unconscious Harry into the house, she had done a basic exam. She had seen the burns on his hand, and they were a lot more prominent the previous night than they were now.

"Did you put something on this that would have healed it so quickly?" she asked.

"No," answered Harry. "At first, I was watching Dumbledore and Nicholas going at each other, and then we were busy reconstructing my lightsaber. By that time, I was pretty well exhausted and went to bed."

"Do you think handing that stone might have done it?" Mrs Granger asked. "Nicholas did say it had healing powers."

That brought something to the front of Harry's memory.

"Now that you mention it," he said, "when I turned the lightsaber on something unusual did happen."

"I'll say," Emma Granger responded. "Seeing that handle turn from silver to gold was probably the most magical thing I've yet seen out of the magical world."

"It definitely was eye-opening," agreed Harry, "but something else happened as well. I felt a tingling and warmth in my hand. Now that I think about it, I don't think the burns have bothered me from that moment."

"I'm not sure what I should be more impressed by," she admonished. "That your lightsaber can both hurt and heal, or that you spent all day working on it with burns on your hand and never once complained about it."

"I pretty much just ignored any pain from it," he explained. "I was too excited by the chance to fix my lightsaber to bother with the burns."

After receiving hugs from both of the female Grangers, Dan Granger entered with some soft drinks. They sat back to enjoy the snacks and another movie.

Harry was enjoying the feeling of having a family for the first time in his life that he could remember. It wasn't his family, of course, but the Grangers were so accommodating to him that they might as well have been.

Hermione had added all of her notes into the Organizer's Notebook, and Harry spent several days reading Advanced Defensive Magic. By the time the break had come to an end, Harry wasn't certain how he had lived without a Christmas break before.

The Hogwarts Express rolled smoothly down the track, leaving London far behind. Onboard, Harry Potter was learning how much that simple swipe of his lightsaber had apparently swept across the country. Everyone was talking about it. There was a constant stream of students coming into their compartment asking him if the papers were really true if he really had deflected a killing curse, and if was he actually immortal.

He told the truth but kept the tale to the few facts that were reported in the paper that he knew to be correct. He told them that it was true that he'd deflected a curse of some kind, but it was with his lightsaber. To the best of his knowledge, no newspaper was entirely true. He rolled his eyes a bit at the ones who asked about his supposed immortality. The constant flow of students into their compartment finally trickled down to the point where Harry and Hermione could ask how Neville and Daphne's holidays were.

"It was pretty uneventful, at home," Neville said. "Me and my Gran, for the most part. We had quite a few family members over for Christmas dinner, of course. It caused quite a stir when Gran told them all I was in the top three of all my classes. Uncle Algie almost fell out of his chair. He thought I was a squib until I got my letter."

"That's something I've often wondered about," said Hermione. "As I understand it, the school is aware of who is getting a letter at the birth of the magical child, isn't that right?"

"Yes," answered Daphne.

"How exactly do they find out?" Hermione asked.

"There is a quill, supposedly at Hogwarts, that registers the birth of every magical child in the United Kingdom," explained Daphne. "It separates them by year, and then when the child turns eleven, their letter is dispatched."

"Well," said Hermione, "I wonder if they shouldn't be telling these families about magic long before they turn eleven?"

"Why?" asked the Slytherin girl.

"Because," answered Hermione, "it would solve a lot of problems for Muggleborn students. My parents almost had to send me to a special hospital when they thought my summoning books was me manifesting a 'behavioural issue.' I live in a good home with a loving family, too. I can't help but wonder how many Muggleborns end up in a mental ward because their parents don't know it's normal for their child?"

"I don't know," said Daphne. "I do know that if anyone can cause it to happen, it'll be you two." She pointed at Harry and Hermione with one finger each and a smile.

"How about you, Daphne?" asked Neville. "How was your Christmas?"

"We had a fair few more guests than we usually get," answered Daphne, "but mostly just my Dad's old friends wanting to talk about Harry."

"Why would your dad's friends want to talk about me?" asked Harry.

"Don't worry," said Daphne. "My parents are not Death Eaters and never have been. They're purely about business. They certainly think pure-bloods are better than everyone else, but to them, money is money no matter who holds it. Not a lot of repeat customers among the murdered. I think everyone's parents have been talking about you, though. At least all the of the pure-bloods have. A pure-blood attacks someone and accidentally ends up killing himself with his own curse? How many times does that happen?"

"Well," said Harry, "every time one has attacked me so far, I think."

Everyone in the car stopped and thought about that for a moment.

"I suppose that's true," said Daphne. "Well, keep it up, Harry," she said with a slight smirk.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore watched from his office window as the students filed into the castle. The incident with Yaxley disturbed him, but not as much as the aftermath at the Grangers. He suspected a Death Eater trap and had tried to warn Nicholas, but the old man insisted on taking back his Philosopher's Stone. Not two days later, Flamel had been taken from his home. The action against Harry Potter and Harry's subsequent victory forced Albus to reevaluate part of the prophecy. He had always believed love would be the power the Dark Lord knew not. Now, Albus was considering that it might very well be the Force.

The dressing down he received by Nicholas in front of the Grangers was unpleasant, but Albus had heard worse. _Vernon Dursley could give Nicholas lessons_ , he thought, ruefully. It wasn't Nicholas's anger that bothered Albus as he watched the students enter the castle. It was his own arguments. He had very nearly tried to make a case for the Greater Good. Again. This was something he had thought he'd laid to rest in himself long ago. He hadn't meant it, of course. It was just a talking point to get Nicholas to stop talking about sensitive issues in front of Harry and the Grangers.

Even so, reverting to past mistakes was not an answer. It was time to let go of the past. He took one piece he had been holding onto for far too long out of a drawer in his office. With a wave of his wand, it wrapped itself in red and gold paper. Summoning a house-elf, he had it delivered to Harry's bed. In this new age of change, it was time to let it go.

So much had changed in Hogwarts already, due mostly to the joint efforts of Harry and Hermione. He hadn't missed how they tended to tag team their efforts. Their questioning of him about how he knew things he shouldn't be able to know was just a case in point. It was as if the Jedi were harbingers of change. Or perhaps it was just Harry. Time alone would tell.

* * *

The Great Hall was still decorated with Christmas trees for the returning feast. They would be removed by breakfast, but it was a festive scene that greeted the students back to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had just welcomed the students back and was about to signal the kitchens to send the meal when something unexpected occurred. Toma Kendet approached the head table, accompanied by Master Amani and Grandmaster Yoda.

"A moment, Headmaster Dumbledore," Yoda said, "to address Padawan Harry Potter, the Jedi requires."

Dumbledore agreed, curious as to what the small Jedi had in store. Harry stood and approached the three Jedi standing in front of the head table. Grandmaster Yoda was in front, with Master Toma slightly behind and to the right, and Master Amani behind and to the left. The students, having seen Yoda around the castle several times by now, looked on in interest. Harry kneeled in front of the Jedi Masters and waited.

"In recognition of your actions in defeating the Death Eater Yaxley," Master Amani said loudly, ensuring he was heard by all, "the Jedi Council award you the Unit of Action."

Master Amani stepped forward, and Harry rose to meet him. Harry looked at his lightsaber trainer carefully, but no hint of what was going on was betrayed in the Zabrak's face. Master Amani pinned a small, rectangular medal to Harry's right breast, and moved back to his original position. Harry knelt once more.

Master Kendet spoke next.

"In recognition for your actions in saving five innocent lives at great risk to your own," Toma pronounced, "the Jedi Council awards you the Unit of Merit." Toma came forward and repeated the pinning of a similar medal to Harry, then stepped back. Harry knelt once again. Yoda took a gold cylinder out of his robes.

"Padawan Harry Potter," said the small, green Jedi, "for your hard work, sacrifice and perseverance, confer on you the rank of Commander the Council does. Award you this lightsaber, I do. May it serve you well, and may the Force be with you."

Yoda lit the lightsaber, causing everyone who had seen Harry's green blade to draw in a quick intake of breath. The ruby-red blade with the gold and green ribbons weaving in and out of the plasma shaft was beautiful but drastically different from the blazing green blade they had seen in his hands before.

Yoda held the lightsaber up for a moment keeping the blade horizontal to the ground, then turned it off and held it out to Harry. It floated through the air to the young Padawan, who took it and held it in both hands. Harry then stood up, bowed to each of the Jedi Masters in turn, and returned to his seat to the applause of his fellow students and his professors.

Dumbledore, who had sat back in his chair when the Jedi began their awards ceremony, now stood up.

"Indeed, congratulations, Harry Potter," the Headmaster said. "And now, let the feast begin!"

Food filled the serving platters, and the students began to eat.

Ronald Weasley had just had one of the strangest Christmas seasons he had ever had. Usually, Christmas consisted of waiting for whatever brothers were currently attending Hogwarts to come home, then playing match quidditch games in the back yard, opening presents and comparing them, a lot of eating and plenty of goofing off. This year, though, he was pretty much alone. His parents went off to Romania to visit his brother Charley, and his brother Bill was off in Egypt as a curse breaker for Gringotts.

In Hogwarts, he had his older twin brothers Fred and George and his brother Percy. All of his dorm mates had left for the break. Fred and George were usually off on business of their own while the other students were gone. Knowing them, they were likely using the reduced staff (and potential student witnesses) to set up pranks for the rest of the year. Percy, while pleased with Ron's new attitude towards studying, was involved in his own studies and didn't have time for anything else.

With nothing else to do, and not wanting to fail his first year, Ron had made an attempt to study and do his work. It wasn't Hermione level work, by any means, but he had made actual progress. He didn't have a subscription to the Daily Prophet, so he was one of the few in the Wizarding world who was completely unaware of the events of Christmas Night at the Grangers. When he heard the tales from the other students as they returned, he reacted with surprise to hear the tale being told all over the Great Hall.

"What are these 'Units,' Harry," he asked his dorm mate, "and what does the rank of Commander give you?"

Harry thought for a moment, trying to come up with a way to explain without making himself look overly heroic, but was having a hard time discussing them. It was somewhat embarrassing to be awarded these medals when he didn't feel he truly deserved them. He knew that they were, in truth, smokescreen awards designed to provide a reason to Dumbledore for Harry to have possession of what Dan Granger had named The Philosopher's Lightsaber in a way that wouldn't raise suspicions. The problem was that the Jedi usually didn't give out medals and awards at all, other than gaining rank. Toma didn't even receive these awards for singlehandedly defeating a Sith Lord but was made a Master Jedi, instead.

Harry was in no way even close to being ready for the Jedi Trials, which would end his apprenticeship to Toma and grant him the level of Jedi Knight. It wasn't likely that Dumbledore would fail to notice the gold handle and ruby red blade unless it was presented to him in such a way that was unconnected with the stone.

The Jedi currently residing in Hogwarts debated requiring Harry make a new lightsaber on his own, but that would either mean taking Harry out of school for a month to go acquire a new crystal or having him wait until summer break. The only other option was for Harry to carry a lightsaber that was not tuned for him in the Force.

Under the circumstances, the Jedi Council agreed to give Harry some rewards they normally would not consider. The rank of Commander was meaningless unless Harry was in combat with Toma and a squad of Republic soldiers. In that extremely unlikely event, Harry would be second in command of the unit, behind only Toma, who would be addressed as General. Harry explained some of this to Ron, leaving out the true reasons behind the awards and how rare it was for a Padawan to be awarded either of these medals and tried to change the subject.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was, on the surface, a changed boy. His father was livid when he learned how Draco's interactions with Potter had gone so far. Draco was under very strict orders from his father. ' _Do not antagonize Potter, do not call attention to yourself other than academically. And if you do not pull your grades up by the end of the year, I will be in the market for a new heir of Malfoy.'_

Internally, Draco was livid because of all this attention on Potter. He dared not go against his father, though, so he kept his face as carefully neutral as it was possible for him to make it. Apparently, he could no longer rely on his family name to provide results. He would have to do it the old-fashioned way. He hated to study, preferring to let others do the work while he reaped the benefits. He thought he'd hate being replaced by his father even more. He would have his revenge, though.

* * *

The students returned to their dormitories, tired from the journey and stuffed from the feast. Harry said goodnight to Hermione with a hug.

"Thanks again for a fantastic holiday," he told her.

"You're welcome," she answered. "And thank you for saving my parents and me."

Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek, then ran up the stairs, blushing furiously.

Harry, with his face slightly red and wearing a smile, climbed the stairs to his dormitory. He noticed a silver-wrapped package lying on the foot of his bed.

"Does anyone know who this is from?" he asked. Everyone answered no.

"Go on, then" urged Ron Weasley. "Open it!"

Harry parted the red and gold wrapping and dark silver, silky material flowed into his hands. A note with writing in copperplate handwriting fell to the floor. Harry retrieved it and read it out loud.

_"Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it safely."_

"That's odd," Harry said, looking over the note again. He shook the fabric out and determined it was a cloak.

"Try it on," Neville suggested.

Harry draped the cloak over himself and gasped to find that his body was totally invisible!

"It's a... cloaking cloak?" he asked.

"It's an invisibility cloak," corrected Ron. "They're really rare. I wonder who gave it to you?"

"I don't know," answered Harry. "Use it safely, the note says. I'm not sure why whoever had it waited till now to return it, or why they had it in the first place. I'm going to keep it on me, though. You never know when something like this might get you out of a situation. I might ever be able to use it to give Master Amani a surprise."

"Why don't you go out and try t?" asked Ron. "You know, test it, make sure it works."

Dean and Seamus were totally on board with that suggestion. The idea of wandering about the castle at night, invisible and able to go anywhere, greatly appealed to their sense of adventure.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Neville said. "I don't know who gave that to you, but using it like that could get you in trouble."

"I agree, Neville," Harry said. He stuffed the cloak into the Mokeskin pouch Hagrid had given him for Christmas to the disappointment of the three other boys. Bidding them goodnight, he changed into his nightclothes and crawled into bed.


	15. Chapter 15

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they wouldn't have had them do themselves. Of course, for Star Wars, that means I could have the Force create, through a virgin birth, the whiniest Chosen One conceivable in fiction._

* * *

It seemed incredible to the students of Hogwarts how quickly the winter months passed. After Christmas, the classes seemed to switch into a higher gear as the teachers upped the pace to prepare the children for the end of year exams. When the 'Jedi Class' had first started, it had quickly escalated to a fairly popular, if informal, club. After the break, it had settled into something more resembling a study group. Interest had died down considerably when it became known that the Jedi would not be teaching them how to use lightsabers. Harry and Toma taught meditation techniques to any who were interested. Most of the students who tried it quit after not receiving instantaneous results. It was now mostly a place for students from different houses to gather and study together in a more noise-tolerant environment than the library.

Sitting at his desk, Dumbledore reflected on the year so far with satisfaction. The Stone, of course, had been destroyed. The headmaster was glad his friend had come to his senses about the matter, however reluctant he was in the end. With the Stone no longer threatened, of course, there was no longer any need for the third-floor trap. Fluffy, the Cerberus Hagrid had lent to the defence of the Stone had been removed from the school, but the remaining protections stayed in place. The monitoring charms he had placed throughout the area were allowed to lapse. The ban on the area was still in effect, though, and would be until the traps could be dismantled during the summer.

Potions was now one of the more interesting classes, instead of one of the most feared. It seemed that Professor Snape quite enjoyed teaching now that he was being forced to do so properly. Dumbledore noted that it was still sometimes a struggle for him to be fair to all his students equally, but he also knew that true change is never easy and always takes time. Like most abrupt changes, there was an initial burst of energy, in this case, fueled by the extreme consequences of failure. This was followed by a mellowing and stabilizing into a new norm. The potions master's behaviour was not nearly as friendly as it was when the 'new' potions class format had begun, but neither had it yet descended into the hostile environment it was at the start of the year. Dumbledore had noted the slight lapse, but the conditions were still so much better than they were prior to his intervention that he allowed it to pass without comment. He continued to monitor the situation but was still well pleased with the results. He knew Voldemort was still out there, but with the destruction of the Philosopher's Stone, there should be no reason to fear the Dark Lord's return to the school.

* * *

In the heart of the forbidden forest, a grey wolf sat in a clearing. It had once belonged to a pack but was now alone. No other wolves would even dare approach it. Its eyes glowed red as it stared unblinking in the direction of the Hogwarts castle. It couldn't see the school through the trees, but the castle beaconed to him. He could feel the pull of it, like a magnet sliding towards a slab of iron. _What would they have done with the Stone?_ The wolf asked itself. The spirit within it had replayed the events of Christmas over and over for months. Voldemort knew the Stone was his best chance to return to his full strength, and he refused to let it go. With his attack at the Granger house at Christmas, the old fool would have had to return the Stone to Hogwarts. It was just a matter of finding where in the castle Dumbledore would hide it. As the Defence professor, Quirrell had played a role in the protection of the Stone, and Voldemort thought it likely that Dumbledore would again place his trust in the obstacles that had, after all, not yet been breached. He had probably found a replacement protection for the troll that was Quirrell's contribution, but there was none cleverer than Voldemort. He would triumph.

 _Too bad the students aren't allowed dogs as pets,_ thought Voldemort. The wolf body was swift, powerful, and elicited fear on sight. All good traits for a dark lord. He was almost tempted to stay in the wolf's body, enjoying the swift freedom and enhanced senses of the canine. If only a wolf could use a wand, he would have. _Oh well, needs must,_ Voldemort thought. With a yelp, the wolf dropped dead as the spirit of Tom Riddle abandoned it and flew through the forest. The wraith weaved its way through the trees as it flew towards the castle.

The wards of the ancient fortress were strong and had anyone else tried to breach them, they likely would not have survived. Voldemort was not just anyone, though. He had not idled his time away during his seven years of tuition at the school and had explored the structure of the wards in greater detail than any of the headmasters since the founders. Weaving a trail between layers, he dipped under a weak spot and was in.

He couldn't just go find the Stone in this form, however. Not only would he draw far too much attention to himself, but he also could not physically interact with items as a mere vapour. He needed another host. Quirrell was perfect, but somehow Dumbledore had discovered him. He wouldn't be so timid this time. Upon breaching the castle walls, he came across the last partner he ever would have thought of. Coming up from behind, he entered his victim's body. He could force the body to do his bidding, with the body's true owner having to take a horrified back seat as this stranger controlled their actions, but it was far less draining to the Dark Lord if he had the host's willing participation. Determined to succeed, he began to communicate with his host and started negotiations. _Oh, really?_ He thought as he pondered the concession the man had asked of him in exchange for his willing partnership. _Yes, that could work. I could do that. It would only have to last until I can make a body of my own, and then he shall die. Until then, yes._

* * *

"But they're Gryffindors!" Tracey Davis whispered to Daphne Greengrass. She and Daphne were up late one Saturday night in the common room, having as quiet a discussion as they could. Some things they couldn't even whisper about in their beds without the other girls in the room eavesdropping and this discussion was too dangerous to risk that. Daphne's best friend Tracey was a rarity. A Slytherin half-blood, she was heavily discriminated against in the pureblood dominated dormitory. The only thing that kept the abuse from spilling into the halls of the school was Professor Snape's ironclad rule that Slytherins do not air their dirty laundry in public.

"Yes, they're Gryffindors," Daphne answered, "but they've never held my being Slytherin against me. Besides, Hermione is really nice when you get to know her."

"But I thought you two were rivals for the head of our year," Tracey exclaimed.

"Rivals, yes," Daphne said, "but friendly ones. I like her a lot, but I still have every intention of yanking the top grade away from her. Besides, I have a personal reason to stay friends with them."

They were discussing The Golden Trio, as Professor Snape sarcastically called them. Draco Malfoy was less complimentary, dubbing them Scarhead, the Mudblood, and the Squib. Malfoy was well aware of the lengths Neville's family went to prove he was a wizard and loved to point it out.

"But your friendship with them has brought you more trouble than your friendship with me has," said Tracey. "What reasons do you have?" Daphne checked the common room again to be certain they were truly alone.

"Look," she told her friend, "It's no secret that Lucius Malfoy is shopping around for someone to betroth to Draco." Tracey looked disgusted at the thought.

"We're twelve!" she hissed.

"I know," Daphne responded, "and I have no intention of doing anything until I'm a good deal older, but if I don't do something soon, I won't have a choice!"

"If he asks," Tracey replied, "just tell the little toerag to buzz off."

"It's not that simple," the pure-blood girl explained. "Draco is a pure-blood, as am I. Both of us are from old families. If anyone asks for my hand, it won't be Draco doing the asking, and it won't be me who is asked anything. If they set their eyes on me, Draco's father will propose on behalf of his son to my father, and that proposal will be attached to a great deal of gold."

Tracey's eyes widened at the thought of her friend essentially being purchased for the arrogant Malfoy boy.

"A betrothal?" she asked. "But I thought Pansy already had Draco locked into something with her? She hangs onto him enough."

"She'd love to," Daphne explained, "and is desperate for it, but it's nothing official. The problem with Pansy is that from a marriage standpoint, I present a much more attractive business merger for Malfoy than she does."

Tracey wrinkled her brow in confusion. The years she'd been friends with Daphne had not been enough to prepare her for the brutalities of being a girl in a pure-blood family. Daphne's parents had been remarkably tolerant of Daphne's friendship with the half-blood girl, but would not have allowed any discussions detailing politics or betrothals to take place.

"What do you mean?" Tracey asked.

"It's a simple matter of influence and wealth," Daphne said. "Pansy's fathers owns companies that deal mostly with shipments of goods between major cities by portkey. The furthest away his company does any business in is France. My father is the head of a coalition of companies that supply rare potions ingredients and creatures around the world. There's no question who the Malfoy's would rather merger with."

"But that's business," Tracey protested. "What does that have to do with marriage, and why would they want to do that when you're only twelve?"

"Marriage is business for pure-bloods," Daphne said, a sad look in her eyes. "Draco's father wouldn't just be purchasing me for Draco, he'd be linking himself through any children Draco and I had to the Greengrass fortune. He'd also be establishing business links with all of the companies that my father is invested in, which is worth even more. They have to move fast, though, because if I were to become betrothed to someone else first, they would miss their chance. I would gain protection that not even the Malfoy's could workaround."

"What if you just dated Potter?" Tracey asked. "Wouldn't that protect you? It wouldn't be as… permanent."

"No, simply dating isn't going to be enough to stop Lucius Malfoy," Daphne answered. "Boyfriends can disappear, and if the boyfriend was standing in the way of a business merger, it wouldn't even raise eyebrows among my father's crowd. I wouldn't even bet on whether it was Draco's father or my own that made him disappear, either."

Tracey smiled at this, knowing how invested in his businesses Daphne's father always was.

"Besides," Daphne continued, "it's not Potter that I have my eye on."

"Not Weasley?" Tracey exclaimed, shocked at the thought.

"No, silly," Daphne responded, giggling. "I'm talking about Neville!"

"Longbottom?" Tracey said, mentally evaluating the boy. "I can see that. He's definitely come out of his shell since he's come to Hogwarts."

"Yes," Daphne confirmed. "He really has. His Grandmother has also taught him really well in etiquette, and he knows enough to keep his head down in a storm. He's not afraid to stand up for what he believes in, though."

"How are you going to do this?" Tracey asked.

"I'm going home for the Easter holidays," Daphne explained. "I'm going to talk with my father and explain how much better for his businesses it will be for me to be betrothed to Neville rather than Malfoy. He might get more gold upfront from Mr Malfoy, but Neville's Grandmother will want a lot less influence over Father's businesses. In the end, I think that will appeal to him more. If he agrees, he'll approach Madam Longbottom with a request for a betrothal contract, and with luck, she'll agree."

"Isn't that a bit… backwards?" Tracey asked. She knew how traditional the pure-blood families were about the proper etiquette being followed.

"Yes," Daphne answered, "and that's probably going to be the main obstacle for my father. I don't think it will be a major one, however. Father wrote to me, and he said Draco's father has already made a few inquiries about me in the last few months. Father thinks he was trying to establish an initial claim on me. Father seemed less than impressed with Draco's grades, however, and you know how much value Father puts in marks."

"Neville should be fine in that regard, then," Tracey said. "I know he's in the top ten of the year, and probably only behind Granger and Potter in Gryffindor."

"Yes, he's in third in Gryffindor," Daphne confirmed, "and sixth overall for the year counting all the houses."

"What does Neville think about all of this?" Tracey asked.

"Wellllll…" Daphne responded, sounding unsure of herself for the first time that Tracey could easily remember. "I haven't really asked him about it yet."

"What?" Tracey asked, shocked that Daphne hadn't even discussed it with the boy yet.

"Neville is really noble and is incredibly sweet. If I explained all of this to him, he'd probably propose to me on the spot just to save me from Malfoy. While that's all romantic and everything, this really needs to be taken care of on our guardian's level. If Neville took the initiative, his Gran would veto it instantly, and so would my father."

"You're right," Tracey said. They had both met Neville's Gran several times at official functions of the Greengrass house, and the old bird was stubborn as a rock if she thought she was being manipulated for any reason. "Well, let me know how it goes with your father, and good luck!"

"Thanks, Tracey," Daphne said. "I know it's not been easy in Slytherin for you, but I'm glad you're here with me. There's no one else I can talk to about this stuff." The two girls hugged, then went to bed.

"Father," Daphne asked, "can I talk to you about an especially important matter?"

Albrecht Greengrass was seated at his desk in his office. His daughter was standing before him with a serious expression on her face. She had returned home on break from Hogwarts two days previous. Albrecht loved both of his daughters very much and had missed his eldest more than he would admit. He placed his quill back in its holder and slid the letter he was writing off to the side of his organized desk.

He never allowed clutter in his office. Albrecht excelled at anything to do with business, but he despised multitasking. When he was speaking with someone, be they family, employee, or business rival, he almost always focused purely on the other party. In his opinion, one of the highest insults he could deliver was for him to be working on something else at the same time they were speaking. It signified that they were not worth his time. If he respected someone, his attention should be entirely on that conversation.

"Of course, Daphne," he answered. "I must say I've been very pleased with your marks this year. You're setting the bar fairly high for your sister, and I look forward to seeing her match your performance."

"Thank you, Father," Daphne acknowledged. "I wonder if we could have a conversation about my future?" she asked.

"Of course," he answered. "What aspect of your future did you wish to discuss?"

"A betrothal," she answered.

Albrecht's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed as he pondered what might have brought up this topic. His daughter was studious and responsible, and unlikely to have fallen for some boy's line. She surely knew that there were political consequences even for bringing this subject up with him. A betrothal offer would traditionally come to him from the father of the potential bridegroom, not from the potential bride herself.

He turned from her, took a bottle of Craigellachie Speyside Single Malt and a tulip-shaped snifter from a shelf behind his desk. He slowly poured a small measure into the glass, then replaced the bottle of scotch back on the shelf. Picking up the glass, he swirled the liquor around, allowing himself the luxury of breathing in the aroma of his favourite drink as he considered her request.

As he performed this ritual, Daphne stood before his desk with her hands behind her back. Her posture and body language told him far more about the conditions that prompted this discussion than her words alone could have. Her back was straight, and her chin was up, signifying that she had confidence in her decision to broach this subject with him. Her eyes were clear and calm, signifying that she wasn't being coerced into persuading him. She wasn't smiling but was holding a straight, serious expression, indicating that this wasn't some crush gotten out of control. Whatever else this conversation might entail, she was here of her own will and was serious about the reasons behind the request.

"To whom?" he asked.

Daphne dared not breathe out a sigh of relief. The possibility of her father dismissing this out of hand was probably about 50/50, which would have meant that she would have been prohibited from ever bringing it up again.

"Neville Longbottom," she answered.

Her father's eyebrows lifted in surprise, as his daughter named the last person who was socially suitable for her that he would have expected.

"Longbottom?" he asked. "Madame Longbottom hasn't said a word about this, let alone made a proposal. To be honest, there have been some inquiries concerning you, from Paschal Nott and Madame Zabini, as well as several from Lucius Malfoy, but I decided you were too young to be locked into a betrothal just yet."

"I don't think a merger with the Malfoy, Nott or Zabini families would be nearly as influential or profitable in the long run as one with the Longbottoms, Father," Daphne said. Albrecht leaned back in his chair and regarded his daughter.

"I think it's clear that this conversation was prompted by the news that Lucius Malfoy has been sniffing around, Pet," the elder Greengrass said. Daphne's cheeks blushed slightly, but she did not deny it. "While I normally would love to engage in a perfectly executed political manoeuvre with you, why don't you skip that and let me know the real reason you want a betrothal with Longbottom."

Daphne looked at him, and he saw her stoic mask slip a little. He sat back and enjoyed his scotch as his daughter proceeded to explain her thoughts and defend her reasoning.

* * *

Augusta Longbottom sat opposite Albrecht Greengrass in her parlour and studied her guest. He had just asked her to offer a betrothal contract for his daughter Daphne from her Grandson Neville. That it was the father of the daughter proposing this was even more a shock than the idea of a match between those particular youngsters was. For one of the Sacred 28 families to break tradition to offer a daughter spoke of political manoeuvrings with an unprecedented speed requirement. If this were going to happen, it would have to happen soon.

"Blinky," she called. An elderly house-elf appeared next to her.

"How may I be of service," Blinky asked, with a bow of his head.

"Tea for two, please," the Longbottom matriarch ordered.

The ritual of afternoon tea would give her some time to consider the request. Blinky delivered a tray with a cream-coloured teapot and cups on plates, adorned with gold filigree patterns. Finger sandwiches and biscuits were layered on a serving platter and set on the small table between Augusta and Albrecht. Blinky poured the tea and then left.

Augusta Longbottom had maintained the family fortune since her husband had died twelve years before. Her son Frank was supposed to take it over but felt it was important to serve the wizarding world as an Auror before taking up his family duties. He met Alice in Auror training, and they were married only a few short years before Neville came along. Augusta was never more pleased than to be a doting grandmother to her first grandchild. Having to go into hiding was quite inconvenient for the Longbottom matriarch. As soon as the scandalous affair with the Potters had removed the requirement for them to hide like mice, Augusta insisted that they return to Longbottom manor without delay.

As it turned out, their return was premature. Augusta had taken poor Neville out for a long walk in his pram when Frank and Alice were attacked by death eaters in a brazen broad daylight attack. If the Aurors that Frank had managed to summon had not arrived when they did, she and Neville would surely have been subjected to the same treatment upon their return.

This tragedy had not only required Augusta to raise Neville herself but had also shaken her confidence quite badly. As Neville grew, it was clear to her that he took far more after his mother than his father. She never deliberately pushed her grandson to become a clone of Frank, but the pressure was there regardless.

She had been pleasantly surprised to find that he was doing extremely well in all of his classes. It was clear that this was at least partly due to the influence of Harry Potter. She hadn't considered offering anyone a betrothal contract as of yet, but she certainly wasn't opposed to the idea. She had been married under a betrothal contract herself, and it had certainly worked out for her. She finished her cup of tea.

"I believe, Lord Greengrass," she said, "that we have a deal."

* * *

"Betrothed?" Neville asked, panic in his eyes. Daphne and Neville were sitting with her father and his Grandmother in a small conference room at Hogwarts, having recently returned from the Easter break.

"Yes," confirmed his Grandmother. "I'm sure this is unexpected, but this merger represents a fantastic opportunity for both of our families."

Daphne looked at Neville, knowing that the abrupt revelation would have shocked the boy. He stared back at her, hyperventilating slightly. She watched as he closed his eyes. His breathing suddenly slowed, and the panic left his face as abruptly as it had arrived. She recognized the application of the meditation techniques Harry had taught Neville and silently thanked the strange Jedi. If Neville had given into his panic and fear, her father could back out of the betrothal claiming offence.

Augusta was also staring at Neville and was growing nervous. She had trained Neville for years on etiquette and was concerned that he might panic and scupper the entire deal.

Neville, shocked at the sudden change to his future that his Grandmother had just dumped into his lap, was quite a bit more intuitive than his Gran generally gave him credit for. He knew exactly how close he was to offending Albrecht Greengrass, and quickly applied the Jedi meditation he had learned from Harry. He certainly was not against the idea of a betrothal to Daphne. He simply wasn't expecting this at all.

"It would be my honour," Neville said, standing and bowing to Mr Greengrass. The adults smiled at him, and he locked eyes with his betrothed.

"With this promise," he said to Daphne, adhering to the formalities, "I offer you the protection of my house and my allies to uphold your honour and safety."

Neville took a small, silver ring with a diamond bracketed by two smaller emeralds from his Gran and placed it on Daphne's finger. She smiled and gave him a hug.

* * *

The betrothal of Neville Longbottom to Daphne Greengrass was the talk of the school for a solid month. It invoked the entire range of emotions from the student body. Jealousy and rage came mostly from the Slytherins, who could not believe Daphne was going to marry a Gryffindor. Draco Malfoy was beyond furious. His father had promised him Daphne, and she had slipped out of his grasp in the only way she could! To lose her to Longbottom, though, was simply unbelievable. He couldn't touch her now, of course, without risking backlash from the other pure-blood families.

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were mostly neutral and/or supportive, depending on how close the individual student was to either member of the newly off the market couple. The Gryffindors were mostly supportive of Neville, with the exception of a small, but vocal minority who felt Neville had betrayed them by taking a snake for a bride. The constant analysis and discussions were only halted by the arrival of the end of the year exams.

* * *

Daphne had just finished her charms exam, which was thankfully the last exam of the year for her. She felt she had done an exceptionally good job, but whether it was enough to edge out Hermione for the top position in their year was anyone's guess. Forcing herself to appraise her performance honestly, she felt confident she had solidly taken second place, but that Hermione had locked the top spot. She'd have to work even harder next year.

She had taken to avoiding most of her housemates due to the fallout from the betrothal. Excepting Tracey, most of the girls thought she was defecting to the Gryffindors. Meanwhile, the boys either thought she had slipped away from a betrothal with one of them or also thought she was defecting. She had gotten used to taking out of the way paths to get from place to place, so when all of her housemates left the Charms corridor to go to the Great Hall for dinner, they all turned to the Grand Staircase. Daphne, however, knew of a winding staircase at the other end of the corridor that very few people used. It was right next to the corridor that Headmaster Dumbledore had forbidden them to enter at the beginning of the year, but he hadn't said anything about the stairwell being out of bounds, so she slipped off alone to make her way to dinner.

Daphne was almost to the small, winding stairwell when she was suddenly grabbed from behind. Her assailant spun her around, and she found herself face to face with Argus Filch.

"Now I've got you!" he cried out, leering at the young girl.

"Let me go!" Daphne yelled. "What do you want?!"

"What were you doin', snooping around here?" the old caretaker snarled. "That corridor is off-limits to students!"

"I'm just walking by it, you imbecile!" Daphne protested. "I haven't been in it!"

Her shoulder was starting to hurt from the way the old man was holding her arm, but she was more angry than afraid so far.

"We'll just see about that," Filch said. He marched Daphne down the forbidden corridor until they reached a door. The caretaker looked both ways for any observers, then placed his hand on the lock. A slighting grinding noise was followed by a click, and the lock was opened. Filch opened the door and noted that, for whatever reason, the giant dog was no longer on guard duty. Filch shoved Daphne in and closed the door behind them.

Daphne was starting to get extremely nervous. No one liked Filch much, and he had the 'creepy old man' warning ringing loudly in the young girl's mind.

"If you don't want students in here," Daphne asked in a trembling voice, "then why did you bring me in here?"

As she asked, she was backing away from him, trying to keep her distance as she moved around him. If she could complete her arc around the room, she could make a break for the door.

The caretaker took no notice of the girl and walked to the centre of the room. He examined a wooden trap door set in the floor and worried about the missing dog. With a limberness that belied his years, he squatted down to get a closer look at the door. _Where is that blasted dog?_ he thought. . He was coming to the conclusion that the Stone may have never been brought back here. Still, he had committed to the attempt. He would never know if he didn't try, and he'd always wonder if he turned back now.

"I need you," Filch said, his voice hard and cold.

Daphne's eyes went wide, and she ran for it! She had nearly made it back to the door when she was yanked off of her feet and went flying back to Filch, spinning in the air to face him! The old man's hand was outstretched, and he caught her by her neck, holding her with her feet a foot off the floor. Her breath was ragged and rasping as she struggled to breath.

"But… You're a squib!" she croaked, astonished that the old man had performed a wandless, silent summoning of her from across the room without even trying hard.

Filch glared at her, his eyes turning red as he continued to hold the struggling girl aloft.

"Not anymore, Missy," he whispered at her. He caught the latch of the trap door with his foot and kicked it open. "My master has a use for you," he said. Dangling her over the dark hole, the trap door had revealed, Filch smiled at the terrified girl. "Happy landings," he mocked and dropped her into the darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they wouldn't have had them do themselves. Of course, for Harry Potter, I could have a quarter of the students sorted into a legal terrorist training cell at the age of 11._

* * *

"What do you mean you cannot find her, Mr Longbottom?" the Gryffindor head of house asked. Neville had been searching for Daphne all evening. Having run out of other ideas, he decided to ask Professor McGonagall for help.

"I've searched everywhere, Professor McGonagall," Neville said, his voice cracking with panic. "I checked the library, and Madam Pince hadn't seen her all day, then I checked the owlery, she wasn't there. I checked with her friend Tracy, and she hadn't seen her since their Charms exam, and Tracy said she missed dinner!"

"I have also noticed," said Professor McGonagall, "that Miss Greengrass has been having quite a hard time of it since the news of your betrothal came out, including missing some meals. Are you quite sure she isn't simply having a bit of a time out from other people?"

"That's not so unusual lately, no," answered Neville. "She's been getting teased quite a bit, by the other Slytherins especially, for being betrothed to me. She's always told me if she was going to do that before, though, and I'd bring her something to eat. She never told me this time. I even went and asked Draco Malfoy if he'd seen her."

"And what did Mr Malfoy have to say?" McGonagall asked.

"He just asked me how I thought I could be betrothed to a girl if I couldn't even keep track of her," Neville answered, glumly. "Where could she be? It's nearly curfew!"

"Calm yourself, Mr Longbottom," McGonagall said, "I will speak with Professor Snape. I'm sure she'll turn up."

* * *

"Severus," Professor McGonagall called, "I need a word!"

Professor Snape was walking down the main dungeon hallway to his personal quarters when the Gryffindor head of house caught up with him.

"Minerva," Snape said, turning to face her, "how may I help you?"

"I'm afraid I must report to you that one of your students may be unaccounted for," Minerva told him. "Neville Longbottom reported to me that Daphne Greengrass had not been seen since she took her Charms exam this afternoon. She was not at dinner, nor has she been seen by her friend Tracy Davis. I wonder, could you check her dormitory and see if she is there?"

Professor Snape immediately went to the Slytherin dormitory and instructed the prefects to perform a bed check. Gemma Farley, the fifth-year girls' prefect, started with the first-years. She immediately reported back that Daphne Greengrass was not in her bed.

* * *

"What is the status of the search?" Headmaster Dumbledore asked.

Professors McGonagall, Snape and Sprout were sitting in his office.

"Hagrid assisted me in searching the dungeons," Professor Snape reported, "but to no avail. There were no signs of her aside from a few books in her common room that were sitting on an end table, but her classmates report that this was a favourite spot of hers to sit and read. I do not believe she returned to the dormitory since leaving it this morning."

Dumbledore nodded, then turned to Professor McGonagall.

"I have searched the ground and second floors, I found nothing out of the ordinary," McGonagall said. "I've asked my Gryffindor's to report it if they see her or receive any word of her."

"I've searched all of the greenhouses and the Hufflepuff common room," Professor Sprout chimed in. "I've seen no sign of her. I've also asked my 'Puffs to let a teacher know if anyone has any information."

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "I have notified her parents, and they should be here by morning. In the meantime…" Dumbledore was cut off as one of the paintings announced that Professor Flitwick was quite agitated and was requesting entrance. "Let him in," Dumbledore said.

A few moments later, the tiny form of Professor Flitwick ran into the office.

"Professor Dumbledore, Argus Filch is also missing!" he reported, panting and out of breath.

McGonagall clutched her chest in shock, and the scowl on Professor Snape's face grew even deeper.

"Argus?" asked Dumbledore. He consulted the ward charts that he had been studying and found that Filch was, indeed, missing from the castle.

"It cannot be a coincidence," said Professor McGonagall.

"No," Dumbledore responded. "However, I was unaware of any animosity between Mr Filch and Miss Greengrass."

"I should think not," said McGonagall. "I don't believe the girl has ever received even one detention." Professor Snape shook his head to confirm that she had not.

"I saw Miss Greengrass this afternoon for her Charms exam," Professor Flitwick said, "and she seemed perfectly fine at the time, if perhaps quieter than normal," Flitwick said. "I'm afraid I could find no trace of her at all."

"I'm afraid I must conclude," Professor Dumbledore said, "that Daphne Greengrass is no longer in the castle. We will search again to be certain, of course. Please keep an eye out for any clues pertaining to Argus Filch, as well. With both of them disappearing in such proximity to each other, I fear we must assume that Mr Filch has taken her."

* * *

Three days had passed since the Daphne had disappeared. The searches had turned up no clues, and there were no witnesses. The wards were studied by Dumbledore and McGonagall, and no sign of Daphne or Filch could be detected. The Aurors had been contacted the night the young Slytherin had gone missing, and were now scouring the country for any sign of the two. The Greengrass family had posted a 10,000 galleon reward for the return of their daughter, and a separate 5,000 galleon reward for any information that resulted in the arrest or death of the person who had taken her, presumed to be Argus Filch.

* * *

"Good evening, Master Yoda," Professor Dumbledore said. The small, green Jedi Master was sitting in a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, with Master Kendet and Master Amani flanking him. "I trust you have been informed of the situation with the missing girl?" he asked.

"Most unfortunate, this is," said Yoda. "A tragedy for one so young to go missing."

"Quite so," said the Headmaster. "I feel I must ask if it would be possible for you to help us?" Dumbledore asked. "We have exhausted our resources, and I feel that time is running out."

"Hmmm…" Yoda hummed as he considered how the Jedi could assist. "Engaged, your local law officers, you have?" Yoda asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered. "The ministry has as many Aurors as they can spare searching the country for Mr Filch and Miss Greengrass. They have turned up no clues so far."

"Master Kendet," Yoda instructed, "go, with the Aurors you will. Assist, however you can."

"Yes, Master," Toma acknowledged with a bow.

"I will be lending my own assistance with the Aurors tonight, as well," said Professor Dumbledore.

"From the air," Yoda continued, "Master Amani and I will join the search. Use caution, we must. Short range, coded frequencies only can be permitted. Cloaked, our vessel must be."

* * *

"Come on, Neville," Ron whined, "it'll take your mind off of it. Just one game?"

Ron had been trying to wheedle a game out of Neville for the past three hours. He was genuinely trying to help Neville, and since Chess always made Ron forget about his troubles and obligations, it stood to reason that it would work for Neville as well. Neville and Daphne, however, had spent the last month getting to know each other a lot better as they studied and revised for their end of year exams together. He had grown quite fond of her, and no mere game of chess was going to solve his problem. Daphne had made it perfectly clear to Neville that she had no intention of taking their betrothal in any kind of physical direction for several years. Neville was the perfect gentleman about that, and, privately, was relieved to not have to be subjected to that pressure just yet.

It was just past curfew when the Weasley twins came up and saved Neville from their chess-obsessed younger brother.

"Give it a rest, Ron," said Fred. He and George had materialized behind their brother as if they were jacks sprung from their box.

"Anyway," added George, placing his hand on Neville's shoulder, "we need to have a private word with Mr Longbottom, here."

Neville allowed the twins to guide him to an empty corner of the Common Room and pulled out an old, blank piece of parchment. Across the room, Ron had switched targets and was now begging for a game from Seamus Finnigan.

"We've been thinking," Fred told Neville, whispering to keep their conversation as private as possible, "and we've decided…"

"To help you out," finished George. "Now, you've got to keep it a secret how we found out about it, but we think we've found them."

"You did?" Neville squeaked.

"Shhhh…. Watch," said Fred, as he put the tip of his wand to the centre of the parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!" he whispered, and Neville watched as spidery lines grew out from the tip of Fred's wand. At first, the lines formed handwriting.

_"_ **_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs - Purveyors of Aids to Magical mischief-makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP."_ **

The writing expanded to form walls and corridors, classrooms and passages, and hundreds of little black dots with names attached to them. Many of the black dots were moving around, mostly clustered in 4 rooms that Neville could tell were the house common rooms.

"This is the secret to our success," George said. "The Marauder's Map. It shows everyone in the castle, wherever they are. We've been keeping an eye out for Daphne and Filch, but it's taken a while."

"Where are they?" asked Neville. He was trying to pick her name out of the cluster of names in the Slytherin Common Room but was not having any success.

"Look over here," Fred said. He was pointing at an empty section of the castle on the third floor that Neville had never been in before. "Should be anytime now…" Fred muttered. Suddenly, two dots appeared at one end of a large chamber. They were clearly marked as Daphne Greengrass and Argus Filch.

"We've got to tell a teacher!" Neville exclaimed.

Fred and George looked at each other. They'd certainly anticipated that giving up the map would be a potential consequence of helping Neville, but they also had a lot of experience dealing with the authority system in Hogwarts. They tried to caution Neville to be careful telling anyone how he knew where the missing people were. Neville hastily agreed to be discreet and went flying through the portal and on his way to McGonagall's office.

Neville was nearly to his head of house's office when he heard the worst voice a student out of his common room after curfew ever had the misfortune of hearing.

"Well, well, well…" the silky-smooth voice of Severus Snape said. Neville froze. "What would a young Gryffindor such as yourself being doing out of bed at this hour?"

"Professor S. !" Neville stuttered. Even with the potions classes miles better now than they were at the start of the year, Neville had never quite gotten over the crippling fear he had developed of the potions master. Closing his eyes and screwing up his courage, he blurted out his plea for help. "I know where Daphne is! And Filch! I'm on my way to see Professor McGonagall now!"

"I see," said Professor Snape. "And where would they be?" he asked.

Neville hesitated. He didn't want to mention the twins to Snape. Who could tell how much trouble they would get into? He couldn't just abandon Daphne, though.

"The Weasley twins told me," he said, trembling. "Daphne and Filch are in the forbidden corridor on the third floor! I need to tell Professor McGonagall."

Snape looked him in the eyes and stared. Neville felt lost, like the deep black eyes of Severus Snape were bottomless pits he was falling into.

"Professor Dumbledore himself has searched the third-floor corridor, Mr Longbottom," Professor Snape said. "I will bring your concerns up with the Headmaster, but I cannot permit you to be wandering the halls after curfew."

Snape paused and looked away from Neville. There was a scowl on his face, and he was clearly fighting with his instincts to assign double-digit detentions and docking enough points to make Neville a pariah. Snape took a deep breath and calmed himself.

"In light of your betrothal to Miss Greengrass," he told Neville, "and the care you have taken to honour that obligation, I am going to go against my better judgement, Mr Longbottom. I am going to… pretend… that I did not see you out here tonight."

Neville's felt faint at the shock of this bombshell. The professor turned back to Neville and fixed him with a piercing gaze.

"This will be the only time this ever occurs," he told the Gryffindor boy. "Do not let me see you out after curfew again. Am I understood, Mr Longbottom?" The question was interspersed with deadly pauses and was meticulously annunciated.

"Yes, Professor," squeaked Neville. "But sir, the third-floor corridor…" he hurriedly said, intent on trying to help Daphne.

"Pretending is not one of my talents, Mr Longbottom!" Snape snapped. "One more word from you and Gryffindor will be in negative points until next Christmas! Now try my patience no longer!"

With that, Neville ran back to the Gryffindor common room and ducked back into the entrance portal.

* * *

Neville, Hermione, the Weasley twins and Ron were standing in a circle inside the Gryffindor common room. Upon hearing Neville's story of how Professor Snape had blocked him from reaching McGonagall, they tried to come up with a plan.

"What about the Jedi?" Fred asked. "Surely they can help?"

"They're not in the castle," answered Harry. "Professor Dumbledore asked if they could assist the Aurors in the search for Daphne. Toma is on the ground assisting the Aurors, and Master Amani and Master Yoda are providing aerial searches in the scout ship."

"Can't you call them back?" asked George. He had seen Harry use his comm unit before.

"They're running under radio silence," explained Harry. "This world hasn't made first contact yet, so it's standard procedure to run cloaked and silent, especially over populated areas."

"What are we going to do?" asked Hermione.

"We're going to go after them," Harry said. The group looked at each other.

"Tonight?" asked Neville.

"Now," said Harry.

"We're in," the twins said in unison.

"I'll come with you," said Neville. He looked scared but was not going to be left behind.

"Ok," said Hermione. Let's do it."

Ron Weasley hesitated for a moment, then said, "Ok, I'm in too."

"Ok," Harry said, "listen up. Our objectives are to find and secure Daphne and Argus Filch. Mr Filch should be considered extremely dangerous."

"But he's just a squib!" protested Ron.

"A squib?" asked Harry.

Fred and George enlightened Harry as to what a squib was. It was well known in the magical families that Argus Filch was a squib, and he had become something of a joke to students once they graduated and were no longer subjected to his cruelty. Harry was adamant that they not underestimate their opponent, though.

"It doesn't matter if he's a squib or not," he said. "He obviously has the ability to keep Daphne hidden and quiet for over three days now, and she's pretty resourceful and really smart. That can't have been easy for him, so don't relax your guard around him."

"How are we going to avoid Snape?" asked Hermione.

"Leave that to us," called out the twins.

"Harry, Hermione, you take the lead," elaborated Fred.

"And we'll go in the middle and guide you with the map," finished George. "Ron and Neville can bring up the rear and watch our backs."

"Let's go," said Harry, pulling off his outer Hogwarts robe to reveal his Jedi tunic beneath. The twins checked the Marauder's Map to ensure the coast was clear, then the six students left the Gryffindor common room to find and rescue Neville's betrothed.

Even with the twins checking the map frequently to ensure they wouldn't be caught, Fred and George got them to the third-floor corridor in record time. Employing several shortcuts that none of the other students had any idea even existed, it took less than ten minutes to go from common room to the trap door.

"It's odd that a simple _alohomora_ charm could open this door," George remarked. "If they're actually trying to keep anyone out, they should have blocked it."

"No kidding," agreed Fred. "I would have expected an _anti-alohomora_ to have been put on it at the least." Harry opened the trapdoor with the Force and peered down into the darkness.

"What do you suppose is down there?" asked Ron, eyeing the dark hole with deep suspicion.

"Only one way to find out," Harry responded. Without further hesitation, he dropped into the hole and was swallowed by darkness.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled.

"It's ok!" he called back. It's a soft landing!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Boys!" she hissed. "Look out below!" she called out and jumped after him. Neville immediately followed her. Ron was still eyeing the hole and clearly didn't want to jump, but he also didn't want to be left behind. He closed his eyes and took the plunge. Fred and George looked at each other and grinned.

"Geronimo!" they yelled in unison, then stepped over the edge.

Harry and Hermione had landed on a bed of vegetation that had cushioned their fall. As the rest of the group arrived, Hermione realized the danger they were in. As each student landed, the plant started to wrap around their extremities. It wouldn't take it long to strangle all of them.

"Oh, no! This is Devil's Snare!" she called out. "Don't struggle!"

"What do you mean, don't struggle?" Ron yelled, struggling.

"Light!" yelled Neville. "It hates light!"

"Of course," exclaimed Hermione. " _Lumos Solem!"_ she called out, and a bright light rushed out of her wand. The others shut their eyes and dropped to the ground as the Devil's Snare shrunk back from the blinding light as she waved it around.

"Is everyone alright?" Harry asked.

"Yes," they all groaned.

"It's a good thing you're so good at Herbology," Hermione said to Neville. Neville blushed.

"It's a good thing you've got a searchlight hidden in that wand," he complimented.

"Any time," she said with a smile. "Let's go."

She led the way to the only door leading out of the chamber they found themselves in. Hermione tried the _Alohomora_ charm on it but found that it wouldn't work on this door.

"Well, I suppose that makes sense," George said. "Don't block the door to get in the trap, get someone down here, then have them get stuck between the Devil's Snare and whatever lies ahead."

"Or," said Fred, "keep going ahead by grabbing one of these keys!"

Everyone looked up. In the direction Fred was pointing, they observed a large number of winged metal keys flying through the air in a slow circle. A broomstick lay propped against the wall.

"Ok," said George, "Fred and I are on the quidditch team. We're beaters, but Fred plays a descent seeker in a pinch, and those keys aren't flying that fast."

"We're looking for an old brass one, like the lock," suggested Ron.

"There!" called out Harry. He was pointing to a key that was clearly flying slower than the others. One of the wings was bent like it had been roughly handled and then released.

"Ok," said Fred. "Here I go!"

He grabbed the broom, but as soon as his hand touched the handle, all of the keys turned and dove at him!

"This complicates things!" yelled out Ron, holding his arms around his head to protect himself from the dive-bombing keys. Fred took off on the broom and tried to catch the key. It was exceedingly difficult as he was under constant attack by the keys, who were trying to unseat him from the broom.

Harry, seeing the key behind Fred, raised his hand and applied the Force. Pulled off course, it diverted from its path and zoomed down to Harry's outstretched hand. He thrust the key into the lock and turned it.

"Fred!" called out George, "we've got it!"

"Hold the door open and get ready to shut it quick!" Fred yelled back. Once everyone else was in and George stood ready at the door, Fred steered into the next room. George slammed the door shut as soon as Fred was clear. The keys thudded against the wood of the door as they knocked themselves into it over and over again.

"Well, that was fun," George said, sarcastically. He took the map out, and the group consulted it. "Ok, we're here," George said, "in this large chamber. We've got to go straight through this room, through the next two small room, and Daphne and Filch should be right there."

"Let's go," said Harry. This time, Fred led the way as they passed through the large room. Tall statues lined the room. The smooth, marble floor was cleaner than was usual in the old castle.

"What is this?" asked Hermione, confused.

"I know what this is," said Ron in an awed tone of voice. "It's a chessboard!"

As he said the words, torches flared into life on the walls of the room. The marble floor was now revealed to be comprised of black and white squares in a checkerboard pattern. The statues were chess pieces. The white pieces were at the far end of the room, already aligned in their appropriate starting places. The black pieces moved into position behind the children, blocking off both entrance and exit to the room.

"What do we do?" asked Hermione.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" asked Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room." He started thinking of strategies and planning his opening move.

"Perhaps," said George. "Or maybe we can just bypass it." He took a step forward and tried to slip between two pawns. In unison, all of the pawns drew a sword in each hand and clashed them in front of each other, barring the way!

"Well, that was rude," remarked Fred. I wonder if…" he said as he tried to duck under the swords to see how much leeway the transfigured chess pieces would allow him.

Unfortunately, there was apparently no leeway at all beyond the first warning. The pawn to Fred's left raised itself to full height, placed both its swords parallel to each other, and swung them at Fred's midsection!

With a snap and a hum, a flash of ruby red light flashed between Fred and the pawn. The swords went flying, clattering to the ground along with the hands and forearms of the pawn. Harry stood in a defensive position, lightsaber lit and held over his shoulder like a baseball player about to take a swing. The pawn looked as if would scream if it could, turned and tried to ram into Harry. The Jedi attacked again, and the pawn crumbled into rubble. The rest of the chess pieces, both black and white, responded by drawing swords, maces and spears. With a terrible grinding, the golems joined forces and charged against the intruders!

Without hesitation, Harry rushed into the charging stone figures. His lightsaber flew about him as he twirled and dodged like a whirling dervish. The rest of the students formed a defensive circle and assisted Harry as best as they could by hitting the chess pieces with blasting curses.

Ron was blasting away at the pieces as well, but all the while, he was yelling at the others.

"We have to play it! We have to play it!" he kept repeating.

Harry wasn't even using magic, just the Force and his lightsaber. Metal swords still gripped by stony fists were falling as fast as they attacked, but the newly unarmed pawns then leapt on him to try and crush Harry under their weight. Twice they would have overcome him if not for the efforts of the other Gryffindors.

After minutes that felt like hours, the number of opponents had finally thinned. With room to manoeuvre, Harry suddenly jumped higher into the air than he should have been capable of, performed a backflip over a knight, and landed behind the stone horse. Neville had just released a Bombarda curse on that particular knight and looked on in horror as his spell went flying towards the back of his Jedi friend.

Harry, warned by the Force, turned and deflected the curse with his lightsaber! It bounced off the shining blade and ricocheted into the face of the white queen! With a boom, it knocked the head off of the stone chess piece. The now headless piece retreated from the battlefield and joined the remains of its fellow pieces out of the way. In the meantime, Harry had decimated the knight.

Between the Jedi Padawan and the four other students, only the black and white king remained upright and whole. Simultaneously, the two chess pieces removed their crowns and threw them on the floor. The white king them stalked off the floor to find its headless queen. Harry, Fred, George, Neville and Hermione picked their way across the rubble-filled room and into the next chamber. Ron, however, stayed behind, staring at the remains of the chess pieces thoughtfully.

"Ron," Harry called out to him. "You coming?"

Ron didn't answer. The rest of the students stared back at the first-year boy as Ron kept looking around him at the chessboard.

 _This was supposed to be mine_ , Ron thought to himself. He couldn't explain the utter certainty he had in this idea, but it had fit him as perfectly as his mum's Christmas sweaters. _The Devil's Snare was Neville's_ , he thought, _this chess game was for me, and the flying keys were for the twins._ It only stood to reason that somewhere up ahead would be challenges for Hermione and, of course, the last one was for Harry. _But this one_ , he thought again, _this one was supposed to be mine!_ Ron was separated from the group now, standing in the middle of the chessboard.

Suddenly, the chess pieces reformed themselves from the rubble that had been strewn all over the floor. Within a matter of seconds, Ron was standing in the middle of a reset game board, and was cut off from the group!

"Ron!" yelled out Hermione.

"We don't have time!" George said. "Who knows how long they'll stay in that chamber, and they'd have to have been deaf to have not heard all this."

"Listen, Ron," called Harry from behind the line of white pieces. "Get yourself out. You'll probably have to play your way back this time. Once you get through, get the broom and fly past the keys and the Devil's' Snare. Get to Dumbledore. Make sure he knows we're here, and that we're going after Daphne and Filch."

Ron nodded. The others, not wanting to abandon Ron, but left without much choice, allowed the door to close and moved on. Ron turned to the white players.

"Ok, boys," he said to the pieces. They all turned their heads and stared at him. "I'll be a knight." He climbed into the queenside white knight and began the game.


	17. Chapter 17

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they wouldn't have had them do themselves. Of course, for Star Wars, I could have the Ewoks (living teddy bears that wear little more than leather hoods and the bones of their enemies) craft an elegant hippy gown for their new friend Princess Leia. Right before they try to eat her friends._

* * *

The five students made their way out of the chess chamber.

"I don't feel right, leaving Ron behind," said Hermione. Her face was screwed up with worry.

"He'll be fine," said Fred. "I don't think there's anyone in Hogwart's as good at chess as he is."

"That's right," George agreed. "If it's something he wants to know, he'll know everything there is to know about it. It's just that annoying 'don't want to know it' stuff he has trouble with."

"Like everything but chess and quidditch," added Fred.

"Quiet," whispered Harry. "We're at the next area."

A closed door lay ahead of them, and a foul odour was tainting the entire area.

"Ugg," gagged Neville. "What could that be?"

"Only one way to find out," answered Harry. He opened the door. The chamber was empty. The nearly unbearable stench lingered, though.

"Of course," said Hermione. They all looked at her. "This all must have been here to protect the Philosopher's Stone. If there were creatures set here to guard it, they wouldn't be needed any longer."

"Then why not dismantle the whole thing?" asked Fred.

"They probably will this summer," answered Hermione. "It wouldn't make sense to leave any animals or creatures down here if they weren't needed, though. They would have been removed."

"For whatever reason," said Harry, "we don't need to deal with it. Hold your breath and let's go."

Harry and the others held their breath and moved through the small room as quickly as they could.

"Pawn to E4!" Ron called out.

He was sitting on the queen side knight, directing his pieces from there. The first of his pawns slid forward two spaces. The black side immediately responded by sending their matching pawn forward to stand in front of it.

"Knight to F3!"

He sent out his King side knight. The black pieces mirrored his move. Ron threatened the knight with his bishop, only for the black pieces to counter with a pawn.

Back and forth, the pieces went. Ron didn't actually move the piece he was sitting on till 12 moves in. The first casualty was on the next exchange when Ron lost a pawn. He took out the invading piece with a pawn of his own.

They were twenty moves in before Ron lost another pawn. He had been quite nervous about the stakes of this game and had been playing quite conservatively.

He was shaken quite badly when a black rook suddenly charged down the field and demolished his own rook! This left his own knight in a position to attack the black rook. He called for it, and the horse he was sitting on galloped over, reared onto its hind legs, and struck the castle with its hoofs. The rook exploded into dust.

The game went on and on. There was one stretch where the enemy queen was right next to him. He was protected by a pawn, but it was still pretty unnerving for her to be standing there, glaring at him the entire time.

Ron ended up sacrificing a bishop in order to break a hole in the defence surrounding the enemy king. His own king was threatened by the enemy queen and a rook before Ron was able to pin the black king down between himself, a pawn, and the black's own bishop. The black king threw his crown down with even more disgust than the last time.

Ron climbed down from his knight and surveyed the battlefield. He eyed the door he was now supposed to go through, then the door where his brothers and friends had gone ahead.

"I wonder where I'm supposed to find Dumbledore, anyway?" he asked himself. He shook his head, gave a sigh, and ran to the door. Opening it, he slipped out of the chess room.

Harry, Hermione, Neville, and the Twins found the next room was even smaller, and barely held all them. As soon as they all had passed the threshold, flames shot up to block both entrances. Black flames blocked their path forward, and purple fire prevented them from moving back. A series of bottles were arrayed on a table, with a note. Hermione picked up the note and read the logic puzzle that was obviously left by Professor Snape.

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line_

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size_

_Neither dwarf nor giant hold death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

"Can you figure out which one lets us move ahead?" asked Neville.

"Of course," said Hermione. She studied the riddle for a moment, pointing at each bottle as she eliminated possibilities. She singled out the smallest bottle.

"That one," she said.

"There's hardly a swallow in that bottle," said Fred. "Which one of us goes in?"

"All of us," replied Harry.

"I don't think that bottle contains enough to get more than one of us through," argued George.

"It doesn't matter," said Harry.

"Ummm," Fred said, "I think it might matter."

"I wouldn't trust it," explained Harry. "Why would anyone leave the key in the same room as the lock? I know that's been the case so far in all of this, but we can't count on that trend continuing. This is obviously a trap of some sort. If all of this was really meant as protection, then none of those bottles should let you through. If Professor Snape left it, I'd bet drinking any of them would probably incapacitate you."

"Then how do we get through?" asked Hermione.

Harry looked at the wall next to the door frame that housed the black fire. He ignited his lightsaber and started to slice through the stone. In less than a minute, he had created a new opening large enough for them to all move single file into the final chamber.

The large room was circular, and in the very centre was a tall, ornate mirror. Standing with his back to the mirror was Argus Filch. He hand was clenched around the throat of a very scared looking Daphne Greengrass. Her breathing was ragged, and it was clear that he was very near to choking her! In the hand that wasn't choking Daphne, he held her wand, pointed at the approaching children.

"We meet again, Potter," the caretaker rasped.

"Mr Filch," Harry said. The others spread out so that if they needed to, they could fire spells off without accidentally hitting themselves.

"No!" Filch yelled. "Not anymore." His eyes shone red with a demonic light. "I'm far greater than that squib could ever be."

Neville had been staring at Daphne since they had entered the chamber. He could contain himself no longer.

"Let her go!" he yelled at Filch.

The red-eyed man glared at the Longbottom boy.

"How typical," Filch sneered. He let out a mocking imitation of Neville. "Let her go! You contribute nothing but noise." Dismissing Neville, he looked back to Harry. "I want the stone," he demanded.

"The stone is gone," Harry exclaimed. "Flamel destroyed it."

"I figured as much," Filch said. "It's been obvious ever since I got down here that the stone never came back here. At least until now." He peered at Harry's lightsaber, pointing at it with Daphne's wand. "You've got yourself a new toy since the last time we met, haven't you? How convenient your magic sword is the same colour as my stone. Perhaps a simple trade will give us all what we want. You want the girl, you give me the stone. Just hand over the sword, I'll get it out myself."

Harry was dismayed how much the evil man had either guessed or figured out. The possessed caretaker had been squeezing the young Slytherin girl's throat tighter as the conversation continued.

"If she dies, you lose your only bargaining chip," Harry said, trying to get Filch to loosen up his grip.

"I'm immortal, brat," the possessed caretaker sneered. "If she dies, I lose nothing I haven't already lost. Now choose!"

Harry didn't know if the stone which now focused his lightsaber would actually provide any benefit to Voldemort/Filch, but he was out of options and out of time if he wanted to save Daphne. Filch's hand had closed entirely around her throat, and her face was changing from red to purple as she ran out of air!

Harry extinguished the blade. Filch's eyes shone with greed as Harry tossed the weapon to him. Daphne was thrown down as Filch reached his hand out to catch the device! His mouth opened in surprise when it suddenly flew past his grasp and darted across the room! Everyone turned to follow its flight and stared in shocked amazement as they saw the summoned weapon fly into the hand of Ronald Weasley!

Neville darted forward, grabbed Daphne's arm, and started to drag her away from the startled Filch.

Ron, who was able to mask his approach by coming up behind the twins, broke into a run for the last few steps towards Filch, fumbling with the unfamiliar device. Pressing everything he could find on the golden handle, his thumb pressed the activation stub just as he got within striking distance of Filch. The blade ignited, and Ron attacked. The young Gryffindor lacked finesse, and he was not trained in any form of combat, but he had the element of surprise on his side and a good deal of luck.

With one swipe, he slashed at Filch with the blade of light, and the man's arm fell to the floor. Flying out of the caretaker's now detached grip, Daphne's wand went clattering away on the stone floor, out of reach. With a scream of pain and rage, Filch reached out with his remaining arm, and Ron froze as he was paralyzed with a wandless body binder. Ron could feel his throat being squeezed with magic as his body was lifted off the ground. A flurry of spells came at the one-armed caretaker from Harry, Hermione, and the twins, but none were having any lasting effect. Jelly legs, the impediment curse, and tickling jinxes were sent out from Harry and Hermione, but they simply splashed off of him as he focused his hatred on Ron. The twins sent out more advanced and powerful stunners, cutting curses, and incarceration conjurations, but they swerved around the caretaker as if he were shielded against them.

"You're going to pay for that, boy!" Filch yelled at Ron. Just as he was beginning the incantation of what was sure to be a painful and horrendous curse, a bolt of brilliant red light flashed across the room, slamming into Filch and throwing him to the ground! Ron dropped and toppled over, still as a statue. Everyone once again looked back to the entrance to the chamber to see Professor Snape with his wand trained on Filch.

Displaying an air of aplomb that any Jedi would strive to match, the Potions Master addressed Neville.

"I believe, Mr Longbottom," he said as he slowly walked to the group of children, "that I instructed you to leave this in adult hands."

Neville didn't bother to answer. He was kneeling on the floor near Daphne, who was clutching at him in a crushing hug.

"Such disobedience," Snape said, kneeling next to Daphne and Neville, "calls for, shall we say, ten points from Gryffindor?"

The potions master let a very slight smirk slip onto his face as he performed a simple healing charm on Daphne's bruised neck.

"I'm afraid," he informed Neville, "that will somewhat offset the 60 points I grant you for your diligence in rescuing one of my Slytherins."

"Thank you, sir," Neville choked out. He was nearly in shock from the rapid changes and was just relieved that Daphne was found and alive.

Filch lay on his back, knocked unconscious from Snape's stunner. A dark grey mist began pouring out of the downed man's nose and mouth!

"Get behind me!" Snape commanded. The students moved to obey, but the before anyone could take more than a few steps, pain exploded in Harry's head as the wraith once again shot through him, and darkness took him as he fell to the floor, unconscious.


	18. Chapter 18

_I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they wouldn't have had them do themselves. Of course, for Harry Potter, I could establish House Elves as having magic that is easily more powerful than Wizards, and then just have them not ever actually use it. Dobby wipes the walls with his former master Lucius Malfoy in order to protect Harry Potter, but then he's never shown using that power again. Oh, sure, he saved them in Deathly Hallows, but in the most mundane way he possibly could._

* * *

Harry drifted in a fog. He heard what sounded like two people arguing. They weren't yelling, but hissing back and forth at each other as if they didn't want to disturb someone.

"It's not yours!"

"I never said it was, I'm just keeping it till he wakes up."

"You can't keep it, it's not yours!"

"I said I'll give it back, I'm just keeping it safe!"

"Children shouldn't have things like that, it's not safe."

"Of course it's not safe, that's why I'm keeping it safe."

A new, calmer voice joined the two bickering voices.

"Perhaps this discussion should be postponed till a more appropriate time."

"Sorry, Sir."

""Oh, we are sorry, Professor."

There was a pause which lasted approximately 3 seconds, followed by a soft cough.

"You heard Professor Dumbledore, Ronald Weasley, the poor young man needs quiet!"

"But Mum!"

"No buts about it…"

Harry opened his eyes to see Toma Kendet, Headmaster Dumbledore, Ron Weasley, and a red-haired middle-aged witch he could only assume was Ron's mother sitting in chairs around the bed he was laying in. Ron was looking quite offended and was holding Harry's lightsaber in a firm grasp. A group of students, professors, and other adults all stood awkwardly in a cluster to one side of the room, resolutely not looking at Ron and Mrs Weasley. Hermione was standing with her parents, Neville with his Gran, and the Weasley twins with their father.

Realizing that he didn't see Daphne in the group, he bolted upright in bed.

"Daphne!" he yelled.

"Relax, Mr Potter," Dumbledore said, standing and raising his hands to stop Harry from getting out of bed. "I am afraid you are a little behind the times. Miss Greengrass is going to recover. She was transferred to St Mungo's hospital to receive care for her unfortunate ordeal. As you had no significant physical injuries, it was decided that you would remain here at Hogwarts until you woke."

"She's going to be fine?" Harry asked, shaking the last remnants of the fog of sleep out of his head.

"Yes," answered the headmaster.

"And Mr Filch?" Harry asked.

"Also at St. Mungo's, under guard," Dumbledore said. "He will be allowed no contact with Miss Greengrass, I assure you. He has lost an arm and is suffering from having hosted Voldemort, even if only for a few short days. He will be questioned to determine if he chose to allow Voldemort access to his body, or if he himself is merely another victim. If he chose this, it will cost him his job and his freedom."

"Alright," said Madam Pomfrey, "I need everyone to clear out of here. He's just woken up, and I need to examine him. The headmaster and Mr Kendet may stay, but everyone else needs to leave."

Hermione dashed forward to give Harry a hug, followed by her parents.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione cried, "I was ever so worried!" She had obviously been crying. She released him and let her parents approach. Dan Granger shook his hand, and Emma gave him another hug.

"If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask, dear," she said. Neville came up next and put his hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed it slightly.

"Thanks, Mate," Neville said. "I…. Just thanks."

"You're welcome, Neville," Harry said. "I'm glad she'll be ok."

Neville's Gran, who defined the word fastidious, gave him a slight smile and a nod of the head as she left with her Grandson. They were replaced with the twins and a red-haired man that could only be their father. Mr Weasley also shook his hand, then ushered the twins out. Ron came up to the side of Harry's bed. He nervously placed Harry's lightsaber onto the side table within easy reach of Harry and tapped it as if to secure it in its spot.

"I kept this safe for you," Ron said. "Didn't let anyone mess with it, or examine it." Ron shifted his eyes quickly over to Dumbledore and back.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said. "I really appreciate everything you did in there. We couldn't have done it without you."

"Come, Ronald," Mrs Weasley said, putting her arm around her blushing son. "I'm sure he needs his rest." She started to guide Ron out, then turned back to Harry. "Rest well, dear," she said. "Do let us know if you need anything."

Finally, it was just Harry, Dumbledore, Toma, and Madam Pomfrey. The mediwitch busied herself casting diagnostic charms and cleaning spells as she examined and healed the various scrapes and bruises that Harry had accumulated during the rescue mission. She finished quickly, warned the two men not to tire Harry out with questions, and then left so they could do exactly that.

"Harry," began Dumbledore. "I have heard several accounts of what transpired in the third-floor corridor, and I would also like to hear it from your perspective."

Harry went through each step of the incident, pausing only to clarify a point here or there.

"That is quite consistent with all of the other accounts of the evening," Dumbledore stated. "There are a few points I would like to address. First, I apologize that you and your fellow students felt the need to take this burden on yourselves. I have spoken with Professor Snape, and he offers his apology as well."

"He did come through at the end, Headmaster," Harry said.

"Indeed," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Second, I would like to ask you about your lightsaber. After the events over your Christmas holiday, you obtained a new one. It seems that Voldemort believes the stone he seeks is contained within. Is that the case?"

Harry looked to Master Kendet. He wasn't sure how the headmaster would respond to finding out the stone was still in existence.

"It is," confirmed Toma. "It is no longer functional for the purpose Voldemort wants it for, but Nicholas helped us to incorporate it into Harry's lightsaber, which was damaged in the attack."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "I am sorry that you did not feel you could trust me with this information. I am somewhat concerned that Voldemort is aware of, or at least strongly suspects the stone's continued existence, but we can discuss that another time."

"Master Kendet," Harry asked, "Where is Master Yoda and Master Amani?"

"Returning to Coruscant," answered Toma. "Both of them visited you and determined you would recover, but were unable to remain here any longer."

"Why?" inquired Harry.

"Master Yoda had been remotely managing the Jedi Council from here via holo, but he has been feeling the need to return for some time now. Tensions have been rising on Nar Shaddaa that the Jedi have been monitoring. Until now, it has been mostly an escalation of the usual smuggler gangs fighting over territory, but it has recently boiled over into an actual fight. Master Amani returned with Master Yoda as it looks like an intervention may be required, and he felt his attention would be better served back in the Republic."

"Are we going to be recalled?" Harry asked.

"It is doubtful," Toma answered. "There are many Jedi qualified to intervene if necessary, and your efforts would be wasted if you were to leave here now. We will likely return to Coruscant for your summer holiday, and there will likely be some short missions for us to perform while we are there, but rest assured we intend for you to continue your education here."

Dumbledore was quite relieved to hear the last bit of Toma's statement. He had been growing increasingly nervous about what Harry's plans were over the summer and knew that if Harry left the planet, there was no possible way to retrieve him.

"Can you answer something for me, Headmaster?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Dumbledore answered. "I may not be able to answer, but I will try."

"Why does Voldemort keep fixating on me? Why did he try to kill me as a baby?" Harry asked.

"Alas," Dumbledore said. "The answer to that is something I have no desire to burden you with."

"Burdened with it or not," responded Harry, "he will still be targeting me. I faced him twice so far this year, and you faced him once. If I have to fight him again, knowing why might help me win that fight."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, considering. "This past year, I have come to the conclusion that I have been approaching this problem the wrong way. For too long now, I have kept to myself things that I should have shared. Very well." He sat back down and fixed Toma and Harry with a pointed look. "I must ask that you keep what you are about to learn in strictest confidence."

Harry and Toma both nodded their consent.

"You will not have the option of studying divination until your third year," Dumbledore began, "but I am aware that you study ahead in many of your subjects. Have you learned anything yet about prophecies?"

"Not yet, sir," answered Harry.

"The Jedi have some knowledge of prophecy," Toma added, "but it has not yet been part of Harry's training."

"If I may ask," inquired Dumbledore, "what is the Jedi understanding of prophecy?"

"The Force can guide your mind in its currents. Through meditation, the Force can offer glimpses of the past, present, or future. These are often vague, and highly subjective to the one who sees these images, and therefore unreliable. We do not place a great deal of faith in them, as they rarely provide insight in a timely fashion."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "For us, it is somewhat different, but with some obvious similarities nonetheless." He sat back down in his chair as he began to lecture.

"I would like for you to imagine, for a moment," Dumbledore began, "that time is an oceanfront. There is the land, which represents the past. Then there is the ocean, which represents the future.

The land is stable, and for the most part, everything stays put. Major events can sometimes shake things up a bit, but on the whole, what happens in the past is set.

By contrast, the ocean, the future, is always in motion. Bits of flotsam and jetsam float about and constantly shift around. Boats sail by, their wake causing eddies and currents that set all the pieces adrift into new patterns. Nothing ever remains in one place in the future. Every decision that is made moves all the pieces of the future in new directions.

The shoreline, where the past and the future crash together in a constant barrage, is the present. Chaos and disorder rule as the pieces of the future are churned into the stability of the past. It is in this short stretch of time that devices such as Time-Turners can operate."

"Sorry," interrupted Harry, "but what are Time-Turners?"

"Time turners," answered Dumbledore, "are rather remarkable devices that can send you up to twelve hours into the past. Time very much beyond twelve hours, however, is no longer accessible to us."

"Why only twelve hours?" asked Harry.

"Trying to access time beyond 12 hours is quite dangerous. Keeping with our analogy of time as an oceanfront, consider the sand. The sand near the waves is saturated with water. It is almost fluid itself. Beyond the waves is damp sand. Walking there leaves clear footprints. Beyond that is the dry sand which moves only by the wind. Finally, you have rocks and soil, which are, relatively speaking, unmovable and set. In this analogy, the further from the water you get, the dryer the sand. The dryer the sand, the less influence you can have on the events of the past. Once time is set, it is no longer able to be changed. Most who have attempted to go beyond twelve hours into the past have simply disappeared without a trace. All attempts to reach beyond 24 hours have resulted in failure, and in death to the time traveller. As you might imagine, such devices are tightly controlled by the Ministry of Magic. Let us return, however, to the subject of prophecies."

"Sorry, Headmaster," Harry said.

"It is no trouble, my boy," Dumbledore reassured. "In the ocean of the future, there are islands. The waves have no effect on them. These, small, rocky outcrops of stability in the chaos of the future are prophecies. Or rather, they are what prophecies attempt to describe. Prophecies are given by Seers. They are born with the gift to see hazy, distorted visions of these islands. The better the Seer is in touch with their gift, the more clear an image they can receive. The more clear the image, the clearer the prophecy that they give. It is a rather cruel twist of fate that a Seer never actually remembers the prophecy that they give."

Madam Pomfrey stuck her head out of her office, saw that all was calm, and disappeared again.

"Now," continued Dumbledore, "there are some rules about prophecies. First, they always come true. No matter what you do, no matter what your skills, no matter how much you try to avoid them, or to change them, or try to arrange events to match them, they are set in stone.

Second, they are incredibly, and often maddeningly vague. Each verse can have many different interpretations, each just as likely to be the true meaning. They are almost never completely understood until after they have come to pass. Regardless of their vagueness, however, there is always only one correct interpretation. Due to the many possibilities that different interpretations can lead to, it is always best to exercise a great deal of caution when dealing with a prophecy. They are quite dangerous, and never about anything trivial."

"So," asked Harry, "there is a prophecy about Voldemort?"

"Perhaps," answered Dumbledore. "Very rarely, if ever, is someone actually named in a prophecy. Some description is given, and it is up to each person who hears the prophecy to interpret it. Several months before you were born, I was interviewing a candidate for a professor of the subject of Divination. I was disinclined to allow the continued study of the subject here at Hogwarts, as there is little point to it if you are not born with the gift, but thought it only polite to meet with her. She is the great-granddaughter of the famous Seer Cassandra Trelawney, after all, and if there were any chance she inherited the gift, I would have offered her the job. I was not, initially, impressed. It seemed to me that she had very little of her great-grandmother's gift, if any of it at all. I was in the process of breaking the news to her when she suddenly began to give what appeared to be a real prophecy. There is a record of the prophecy kept in the Department of Mysteries, but since the prophecy was given to me, I can recite it for you.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"_

"So," said Harry, "essentially, that means that it's really down to either me or him?"

"Perhaps," answered Dumbledore. "Perhaps not. As I have said, there are many possible interpretations of this prophecy, if it is actually a real prophecy."

"There is doubt as to its authenticity?" asked Toma.

"I am old, and many have used the kinder word of 'eccentric' to mask how they truly feel about my oddities, but I am not clueless. It has not escaped my attention that this prophecy was given just as I was dismissing Professor Trelawney from her interview after a memorably bad performance on her part. It is quite possible that, in her desperation for a job, she faked the prophecy. It has been done before, after all. I was forced to act on it, however, as if it were real."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"A spy of Voldemort, on business for his lord, overheard the first half of the prophecy. The part that identifies the one with the power to vanquish the 'Dark Lord.' He was discovered and failed to hear the remainder of the prophecy, and in the confusion, I was unable to apprehend him before he left to return to his master. The spy relayed what he had heard to Voldemort. Believing the prophecy to be real, he acted on it. Thus, I am forced to act as if the prophecy is real, even though there is evidence that it is not."

"What evidence?" asked Toma.

"Professor Trelawney clearly remembered the incident where the spy was found and ejected from where he was eavesdropping," Dumbledore explained. "Seers do not remember what happens when they are giving a prophecy, so if it were a true prophecy, she should have had no knowledge of a disturbance in the middle of her telling it. Nonetheless, it is now a moot point. Believing the prophecy to be real, Voldemort has, in essence, given it the legitimacy that it previously lacked. Or, at least, the part that he knows. The part he does not know, where it is detailed that it is you, and only you, that has the power to defeat him is likely false."

"That means anyone can actually defeat him," said Harry.

"If the prophecy is false," corrected Dumbledore. "This is the maddening part of prophecies. Even this one, which should have no legitimacy at all, is given power by Voldemort's belief in it. As he takes it seriously, we must as well. That was why I urged your parents to go into hiding. Alas, they were betrayed by one they thought was their best friend. Voldemort found you, and killed your parents, and tried to kill you too."

Harry paled at this part of the story.

"How did he fail?" he asked.

"I am not sure," answered Dumbledore. "The best guess I can come up with is that your mother, who was very clever with charms, was able to craft a protection charm that was able to save you. There is a very real possibility that it wasn't actually a charm, though, but a rune."

"A rune?" asked Toma.

"A symbol, usually etched into stone, that contains magical power. The carving, once charged, provides the magic. The symbol itself directs the magic to achieve the carver's conditions and intended goals. While I am not certain what rune she may have used, or even if it was a rune, I do note that the lightning bolt is often used in runic languages to describe a powerful protection."

"So you think my mother carved this into my head?" asked an incredulous Harry, rubbing the scar on his forehead.

"I should think not," Dumbledore answered. "It would likely have been drawn, not carved. If it is a rune-based marking, at least. I believe the killing curse, reacting with the protection rune, caused the damage that formed your scar. The killing curse generally does not inflict any physical damage at all, I should add. Proof yet again that something more must have been going on."

Dumbledore rose from his seat and began to pace.

"Regardless of whether the prophecy is real or fake, we must protect it. Voldemort must never learn of the half he remains unaware of. He may very well try to get it out of you, I'm afraid. He is a master of the mind arts, after all." He frowned as he considered how much he had revealed in this discussion.

"I have been rather remarkably free with my dispensing of information tonight, I'm afraid," he said. "You see, it is not that I believe myself infallible that I have shared this with no one thus far. If Voldemort ever learned of it, he would be far more brazen and deadly than he ever was before."

"And far more likely to make mistakes," added Toma.

"Yes," conceded Dumbledore, "That is true. However, he is well versed in the dark arts, and a Voldemort, returned to his body and genuinely believing himself to be truly immortal would be nearly unstoppable. I am aware of my own limitations, and I would be no match for him. Oh, I would provide quite the show, no doubt, and if tales were told of that battle, I'm sure I would be well represented in them. I would, however, lose to Voldemort in the end. At his greatest strength and believing himself to be unkillable, he would be a truly deadly force. Someone might eventually stop him, and if the magical community ever stood as one in defiance of him, he would stand no chance at all, but that is unlikely. The magical population is, by their very nature, followers. They are unlikely to unite in the face of danger."

"Well, Harry and I will be returning to Coruscant for the summer, so this is something we can table until we return," Toma said. "Unless you believe that Voldemort can travel across the galaxy now,."

"No," said Dumbledore, "I believe that would actually be the best place to keep away from him."

Harry was sitting on a rock on the courtyard. Surrounding him was Hermione, Neville, Daphne, and Ron.

"So, Harry," said Daphne, "what are your plans for the summer?" She was physically healed from the choking she had received at the hands of the Voldemort possessed Filch, and would be undergoing mind healer treatments throughout to summer to help her come to terms with the emotional impacts of it.

"Master Kendet and I are returning to Coruscant for the summer," Harry replied. Hermione looked quite sad at that until Harry gave her a hug. "Don't worry, Hermione," he comforted her. "I have a holocube for you. We're leaving a relay station on the moon, and that cube will allow you to contact me. I may not be able to answer right away, but we can leave messages back and forth."

Ron looked a bit green at the thought of where Harry was going, and how he was told Harry would be getting there.

"Are you really going to leave in a spaceship?" Ron asked.

"Yes," answered Harry. "Our fighters should be arriving any minute now, actually. We'll fly them to the rendezvous point where we'll meet a republic cruiser which will take us the rest of the way to Coruscant."

"And good riddance, too!" said a snooty voice. Draco Malfoy and his goons had arrived to leave a parting shot. Draco had been forced to back off by his father all year, and that was something that had really bothered him. He felt like there was a bone stuck in his throat every time he saw that weird Jedi, and could not resist one final verbal parting shot before Potter left for the summer. "Why don't you do us all a favour and stay up there, Scarhead!"

Harry wanted to respond, but he had learned to be calm in the face of adversaries far more potent than the Malfoy scion. He gave one, rather bored look at Malfoy, then turned back to his friends and resumed their conversation as if Malfoy wasn't there.

"It will take us most of a day's flight to get to the rendezvous point, and then we'll spend the rest of the flight in hyperspace," he said to Ron. Malfoy's face reddened at being ignored.

"Which star is it?" asked Hermione.

"You can't see it from here," answered Harry. "It's far, far away. It will take us two weeks of travel to get there, and another two weeks to get back."

"That's half your summer in travel, right there!" exclaimed Neville.

"Can't be helped," said Harry. "With Master Amani and Master Yoda having already left, I imagine the month I'll have on Coruscant will be filled with training anyway."

"Well," interrupted Malfoy, "that's just stupid, isn't it. Your entire summer wasted. I'll be taking it easy this summer." He turned to Hermione. "Bet you'll just have your nose in a book," he said in a scathing tone. He turned to Ron. "And you'll spend it in poverty!" he spat. Ron, always quick to action, abandoned all decorum and leapt onto Draco, dragging him to the ground. A fistfight ensued, which was broken up by Professor Snape, who happened to be walking by at the moment. Snape admonished both boys for fighting and left with a bleeding Draco Malfoy to go to the hospital wing. Ron, who had a few minor scrapes but no other injuries, stayed with his friends.

"You shouldn't have reacted," Hermione said to Ron, as she helped mend his torn shirt with a binding charm. "Fighting only shows him that what he said about you matters."

"It wasn't what he said about me that made me jump on him," Ron told Hermione. "You're really the first friend I've ever had. You were the one who helped me this year. I don't want him insulting you."

Hermione smiled and gave him a hug.

"Thank you, Ron," she said. "It's good to have you as a friend, too."

Everyone looked up to the sound of the Jedi Fighters arriving.

"I'll miss you," Hermione said.

"I'll miss you, too," Harry answered. They hugged again, as Toma emerged from the massive front doors. The ships landed, and the engines wound down to a quiet hum. After being thoroughly told off by R8 for leaving him on a dusty moon all year, Harry smiled and waved at Hermione.

"Bye, Harry!" she called over the whine of the fighter engines, which were idling.

"I'll see you in two months," he said, then waved at Neville, Daphne, and Ron. He climbed into the cockpit and began going through the pre-launch checklist. As the astromech droid had already checked all systems to fly the ship from the moon back to Earth, this was really just a delay to have one last look at Hogwarts and his friends. Toma allowed him that moment, then called over the radio for them to lift off.

Hermione watched as the two jet fighter looking spaceships rose off the ground, raised their landing gear, and began forward flight. Her dress swirled around her legs in the wind the engines provided. The whine of the engines increased in volume and pitch as the Jedi increased power, raised the fighter's noses to the sky, and rocketed out of sight.

To Be Continued in Episode II


End file.
